The Past Imperfect
by DarkLisa
Summary: Hermione and Draco had their fair share of scrapes in the past, but no one knew they also had a few moments of connection. They just seemed to always rub each other the wrong way if they were together more than two minutes. The Second War has been over for five years, but for some, it still hasn't ended. How do you move on? Rated M for language and sexual situations. EWE?
1. Take Out, Grow Up

The day had been long and tiring, and all she wanted was to get home to her flat where she could kick off her shoes, turn on some music, drink a glass of wine and soak in a hot tub. She gathered the work files she needed to finish over the weekend and stuffed them into her black briefcase. Snapping the case shut, she grabbed her coat off the hook on the back of her office door and set off at a brisk pace down the marble hallway towards the exit of the building.

Since the end of the Second War, she had finished her schooling, earning 10 N.E.W.T.s when she was finally tested, and finished internships with several different specialists in her various fields of interest. The past five years had been full of her favorite things – learning, reading and researching – but that had come at the cost of her personal relationships. Her love life was sporadic and her friendships, while close, were to be called, at best, "sparse". Still, she felt it was a fair trade-off, because she was now a researcher for the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Research and Development.

She mostly focused on potions and their uses for treating and healing all forms of maladies. She also taught the occasional Advanced Potions seminar for Seventh Year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She smiled as she thought of the young, eager faces who had attended her last eight week series of classes to learn the basics of potion research. She was hardly old, but the students had such youthful, innocent expressions that she often felt much more closely connected to the staff and Professors than she did to the students who were a mere five years younger than she.

As the main entrance hall of her office building came into sight, she moved quickly towards the line of fireplaces against the back wall. Her department was not housed in the main Ministry of Magic building, but was instead tucked into a building with laboratories and safety equipment in order to carry out the necessary experiments and research with which they were involved. Still, the row of fireplaces with witches and wizards moving smoothing in and out of the flames as they used the Floo Network always brought to mind the larger Ministry building with it's vast number of fireplaces and the constant movement of visitors in and out of the building.

Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she stepped into the flames and called out her destination, one of her favorite restaurants in Diagon Alley. She would grab some take-out for dinner, then walk the short distance to her flat above Flourish and Blotts. Really, was there a more perfect place to live, than right above her favorite bookstore? Perhaps if she could have a bed in the midst of a library, but other than that, she couldn't think of anything more ideal. She still had a smile upon her face at that thought as she stepped from the fireplace near the entrance of Spree, the newest trendy restaurant in the Wizarding community.

The hostess, a young witch named Cassandra, smiled and greeted her by name. "Miss Granger! How nice to see you!" She smiled with real pleasure at seeing one of her favorite customers. "Will you be eating here this evening, or shall I put in your usual order for take away in the kitchen?"

"Hi, Cassie. I think I'm going to have to go for my usual at home tonight. This week has been exhausting and I am ready to just go home and collapse with a good book."

"Absolutely. I'll get your order placed right away. It should be about 10 minutes until it's ready." With a smile, the hostess turned and made her way to the kitchen to place Hermione's order, which rarely varied. The restaurant specialized in many different types of cuisines, and encouraged it's guests to sample several different small entrees rather than ordering one larger one. They wanted the customers to feel as though they were on a quest to experience multiple flavors and cuisines, hence the name "Spree".

Hermione loved being able to eat different types of foods with the convenience of stopping in only one restaurant, and the smaller portions helped her to keep her figure trim, which wasn't easy with the many hours she spent sitting at desks or bent over a laboratory table at work. She was wearing a midnight blue skirt that fell to just above her knees and a sheer white blouse with pearl buttons, the top two carelessly unfastened to show her slender neck and some of the smooth skin of her chest. She was slender but shapely, and taller than most people expected her to be. She usually wore a lab coat at work, but due to meetings and conferences with various ministry officials throughout her day, she dressed professionally even though she often was wearing the boring white coat of her profession.

She heaved a sigh to catch her breath after the hustle of leaving work and looked around the restaurant. Her deep brown eyes moved over the various tables and booths of the stylish dining area. The walls were a light gold color, almost like a Tuscan villa blanketed with rays of summer sunshine, and the floors were a gorgeous Brazilian hardwood. The tables had chairs with a rich burgundy brocade fabric with gold fleur-de-lis embroidered with regular spacing across them, and the booths also used that fabric for their seats. Small sets of 3 pillar candles glowed from the center of each table. Overall, it was a very relaxing and comfortable room.

It was too early to be crowded, but most of the booths and several of the tables at the center of the room were occupied, and a light hum of conversation and laughter rose above the sounds of the jazz music playing and silverware clinking from the waitservice area. With her lightweight Burberry coat hanging over her hands, clutching her briefcase in front of her, she leaned back against the wall in the entrance area and put one high-heeled foot against the wall to relieve the pressure on at least one of her tired feet. She enjoyed people-watching while she waited for her food.

Cassandra led several couples of varying ages to seats in the dining area and one rowdy group of men dressed in business suits, their neckties loosened and jackets unbuttoned. Hermione smiled at the obvious signals that they were celebrating the beginning of the weekend, and she didn't envy the poor waiter or waitress who would be helping them. No amount of money was worth dealing with a bunch of men trying to deny their receding hairlines and advancing waistlines with vast quantities of Firewhiskey and bad jokes, she thought ruefully. Her twinkling eyes met Cassandra's as the hostess walked back to her stand, smiling at Hermione while she rolled her eyes in tacit agreement with her assessment.

The front doors opened once again and a wave of chilly air blew in, moving her shoulder-length curls back from her temples. She saw a tall, blonde woman walking through as the door was held by a man in a dark coat. The woman moved with the grace and poise of someone who had spent her whole life expecting the world to open her doors and push in her chairs. Her lilting laughter carried to Hermione as she turned her head back to respond to what her escort was saying. She was dressed in a well-tailored olive coat with a wide belt and knee high black leather boots. Her silky hair was caught up in a graceful chignon that Hermione knew she could never manage with her wild mane of waves and curls.

As the couple stepped into the restaurant, Hermione's heart gave an extra beat as she realized who the man holding the door was … Malfoy. As in, Draco Malfoy. As in king of the asswipes who had made much of her life a living hell when she was younger. The smile on his lips faded as his eyes lit on Hermione, narrowing as he took in the sight of his favorite school-days punching bag. She met his gaze steadily, ready as always to engage in the verbal duels for which they were known. She hadn't seen him in years, but he really hadn't changed much. She quickly took in the details of his appearance – expensive wool suit, expensive wool top coat, shiny black dress shoes, tall and slender frame, pale blond hair falling almost into his eyes – and yes, the smirk was in place and the piercing grey eyes the color of steel were boring into her in that way she remembered oh so well.

He gave her a barely perceptible nod of his head, then turned to the waiting hostess, his hand resting on the small of his date's back as he guided her to their table. Hermione watched their progress with no emotion on her face, wondering what the lovely woman could possibly find attractive about the man she was with. Yes, he was outwardly good looking. Perhaps he could even be considered _very_ good looking.

_'Oh bloody hell, Hermione. He's freaking hot. Just admit that,'_ she thought to herself. _'Okay, okay. So he's hot. But what does that matter in the face of his arrogance, which he clearly still has in spades, and his lack of personality and his sarcastic sense of humor and his obvious love of himself? Who would want to spend more than a night or two in the company of someone whose head was so big he needed an extra room for it when he went to bed at night? Oh, yeah … someone who could put up with all of that if maybe, just maybe, they could end up married to his fortune … er, to him, I mean.'_ She gave a snort of laughter at her thoughts as Cassandra came towards her with the white bag holding her food.

"Here you are, Miss Granger. I charged it to your account." The hostess smiled as she handed the bag to her, and Hermione returned her smile as she gave her thanks.

"I'll see you soon, probably next week, Cassie. Thanks for the great service, as always." She gave a wave as she began to move to the door to head home. From the corner of her eye, she saw those grey eyes watching her. As she used her rump to bump open the glass door behind her, Hermione met his gaze once again, allowing her eyes to move to the back of his date's queenly head, then back to him. The last thing he saw before she turned around was her smirk. _The_ smirk. After all, she had learned it from the best.

He sat there wondering if he should be flattered or offended that she had used his time-honored weapon of sarcasm to clearly convey her message of just what she thought of his date. He gave a rueful chuckle and shook his head, thinking back to the last couple of years they had been at Hogwarts. He would never want to go back, and yet, there was still a twinge of wistfulness when he thought of the things that had happened as time marched towards the inevitable war. He still waged an internal battle with himself over the things he had done and the choices he had made. For those like him, the war may never really be over. He sighed as the voice of his date brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned his attention back to the lovely, if vapid, woman sitting in front of him.


	2. It Wasn't All Hate

Leaves tumbled down the narrow cobblestone street as Hermione rushed to her flat with her dinner. She shivered as she rushed inside, slamming the door behind her before the chill could race to every corner of her flat. A quick wave of her hand set the fireplace ablaze, and she kicked off her torturous heels and grabbed a fork from her tiny kitchen.

A hearty sigh of relief escaped from deep within her lungs as she relaxed against the cushions and began unwrapping her pad thai. She watched the flames dancing in front of her as she slowly chewed, her thoughts returning to seeing Malfoy at the restaurant. He was so much the same it was hard to believe. It was as though he'd replaced his expensive school robes with expensive suits and his arm candy from simpering Fifth Years to shapely Twenty-Fifth Years. She snorted at that thought, then coughed as she choked a bit on the rice noodles she almost swallowed whole.

Seeing her old schoolmate made her think of Hogwarts, and the years leading up to the war, when she and her best friends had been facing dangers and obstacles at every turn as they tried to defeat the slit-nosed bastard and his followers. Malfoy had certainly not made her days there any easier, that's for sure. On the other hand, his constant verbal abuse and taunting had made her even more determined to prove that he, and others who thought like him, were wrong. His opinion of her had actually meant far more to her development than he could have realized … because of him she read more, studied more, memorized more, learned more hexes, thought more deviously.

Really, she probably owed him some credit for the things she'd learned to help Harry and the Order defeat Voldemort. He'd probably be speechless for a moment if she told him that, then he'd come at her with renewed sarcasm and snarkiness. Ah, the good old days. She almost missed that adrenaline rush from having to think on her toes to respond to him on a daily basis with words that were carefully aimed to deflate his enormous ego. It had all turned out to be such a vicious cycle though, hadn't it? The more he insulted her, the better she got at responding to him, and the more he wanted to insult her. Why couldn't either of them see that they were only making the other better at being … unkind? That their constant verbal duels were helping the 'other side' react more quickly in thought and deed, which only helped them when it came to their actual battles?

If only he hadn't been such an insufferable prat most of the time. Of course, there were those few times when he had been almost … approachable … times when she had seen things inside of him, shining out of those grey eyes with a mute plea to help him figure out why they were there, and what he should do about them. She had a feeling that she was the only one he had ever shown the slightest sign of doubt or weakness to before that fateful Sixth Year when so much had changed for so many due to his mission against Dumbledore. He'd shown her these glimpses of his inner battle because she was the only one who could crack his outward defenses, if only briefly, and show a peek of what was inside. Wryly, she thought that he probably had seen some things from her, too, that she'd rather the world hadn't seen at that point when your facade was often the only thing you had to wrap around you when fear overtook you and your life was in your own hands.

She wondered if he ever thought about those moments when they had connected on a really raw emotional level. At the time, they both would've rather stuffed their mouths full of ear wax and vomit flavored Every Flavor Beans than admit that the other knew of any weakness that could be used, or abused, in Malfoy's case. She snorted in laughter again as she began eating her chicken lemon soup.

As it grew later, the restaurant began to fill up and grow louder as the alcohol loosened tongues, neckties and libidos. Draco leaned back in his seat, absent mindedly running his finger around the top of the crystal snifter holding his after dinner brandy. Lydia's lips were moving and he watched them without hearing the words they were forming. It was oddly abstract to focus on someone speaking without allowing their sounds to enter your brain. Almost entrancing, really. Her lips were lovely, full and moving expressively as she made whatever point she was working towards. He knew he should focus and pay attention to whatever she was saying but he just couldn't seem to work himself up to … care. Instead, his mind drifted to those days at Hogwarts. Those days when he was so clear on what his life was and should be one minute, then full of doubt the next. No doubt seeing Granger earlier had brought those memories to the forefront of his thoughts. Like that time during Fifth Year when he had accidentally stumbled, literally, over Granger in the Owlery.

_'Watch it, Mudblood.' _

_Hermione winced as she felt Malfoy's black boot grind down on top of her foot. She wanted to grab her foot and hop around in pain, but she wasn't really in the mood to let him see her give in to a bit of discomfort. _

_'Sod off, you clumsy prat. I wouldn't have to touch Your Royal Robeness if you watched where you were going,' she snarled at him. Her hand instinctively went to her sleeve, ready to grab her wand in case he wanted to act like a petulant toddler, as he so often did. _

_Expecting a smart-assed remark in return, she was surprised when he just let out a puff of air and turned away from her. She watched as he tied a roll of parchment to the leg of his owl, sending it off with a treat and a couple of unexpectedly gentle pats as he murmured to it. _

_She couldn't contain her snort of derision as she watched him. 'Only _you_ could treat an owl better than you treat humans.' She expected him to turn to her with a snappy comeback impugning her blood status or lack of skill as a witch, but was surprised when he stayed turned away from her and simply shrugged his shoulders. _

_'I guess I treat her well because that's how I was taught. Treat your owls well, and they will do their jobs discretely, faithfully, and quickly. Humans are more complicated than that, aren't they? No matter how you treat them, they very well may surprise with their actions.'_

_'Well, at least the humans you expect to do jobs for you, I suppose. What's your excuse for poor treatment of humans who have no responsibilities to you? Just enlarged house elves, hmm?'_

_He turned to her then, regarding her with a serious look on his face, not a trace of sarcasm or disdain showing. 'You could never understand why I treat others the way I do. Be glad you'll never know.'_

_Hermione's first instinct was to fall back on her usual self-righteous tone to set him straight that yes indeed, she didn't understand, because she was a decent person, unlike him. But the look in his eyes kept her silent. He kept looking at her, as though waiting for her to explode at him with some moralistic reply about what a bigoted asshole he was for treating any living creature poorly, and a feeling of sadness came over her for a moment. She didn't want him to see her only as someone who would attack him, regardless of what he said or did. That would be no better than the way he usually behaved towards her._

_'You're right, Malfoy. I can't understand. I wish I could.'_

_His eyes changed for a moment, softening as though he wanted to explain it all to her. That moment passed with the blink of an eye and he looked at her warily, waiting for her to go on. When she didn't, and didn't even glare at him, he shifted uneasily on his feet and looked out over the grounds of the castle. When he spoke, his voice was low, as though he didn't want her to hear what he was saying. _

_'There are certain ways I have to be, Granger. Things I have no choice about, and haven't since I was born. My whole life has been to get me to one certain place, whether I want to be there or not. It hasn't all been bad, of course, but it hasn't been all fun and games, either. I'm not sure you and your perfect friends can begin to understand what it's like to have the expectations of your entire ancestry on your shoulders.'_

_Her voice was soft as she replied to him through the stillness of the evening. 'Malfoy, not making a choice _is_ making a choice. Blaming it on the fact you were born into all this is a copout. If you're going to embrace what your parents have taught you, just do it. Stop trying to make it seem as though you came out of the womb as a bigoted Death Eater. Own your choices, Draco.'_

_Her earnest brown-eyed gaze looked at him steadily, and he unwaveringly looked back at her, his eyes darkening a bit as he digested what she had said. He moved towards the door of the tower to make his way back downstairs. She heard his reply as he walked away._

_'I never knew there was a choice until I came here. It's a bit late, don't you think?'_

_The door closed with a soft click as Hermione closed her eyes and sighed softly. _

" … and I told her that she'd have to consult with the caterers if she didn't want to have the event at the Opera House. Everything we've planned up until now has been based on having it there, and if she changes now it's going to mean starting all over again. I get so tired of these women thinking they can just allow us to go on planning for months on end and then start all over again just before the event …"

Draco blinked slowly as he came back to awareness in the now bustling restaurant. Lydia showed no signs of slowing down on her monologue, and he wondered, just briefly, when he had ever led her to believe that he gave two shits about whatever she was prattling on about. He downed the rest of his brandy in one swallow._ 'I'm going to need more. Lots more.'_ He lifted his chin at the waiter as he caught his eye, hoping against hope he could drink enough alcohol to begin to care about … party tents.


	3. Coffee, Tea or Me

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Webber is here for your meeting."

"Thank you, Susan. Please wait about five minutes, then bring her in."

"Yes, sir."

His efficient secretary turned on her heel and headed out to her desk in the front of his office. He leaned back in his leather chair and sighed deeply. This was one of those days that was filled with meeting after meeting. He'd just finished up a discussion with his upper level executives about some new acquisitions for the company, and now he had a meeting with the woman in charge of administering the Malfoy Foundation. This was actually one of his favorite jobs. Choosing various charities and organizations to provide grants and donations was much more entertaining than listening to a stream of sales reports and projected revenues.

Julia Webber stepped into his office and grinned at him. He gestured to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, indicating she should sit down. She took some files from her leather case and perched on the edge of her seat.

"How are things, Julia?" He could tell by the sparkle in her eye that she was happy.

"I am beyond great, Draco. How are you?"

"Things are well with the company and myself. Now tell me why you look like you're about to pop if you don't spill your guts to me." There was a laugh in his voice. He'd known Julia since he was a boy. She had worked for the Foundation since before he was born and showed no signs of wanting to change that arrangement.

"Fiona is getting married! I'm finally going to be able to start planning for grandchildren!" Her smile was wide and dazzling, and Draco answered with a smile of his own as he moved around the desk to give her a quick hug. She filled him in on the details of her daughter's engagement as he returned to his seat.

"I'm very happy for Fiona and Christopher. I look forward to receiving my invitation to the wedding."

Julia laughed. "Yes, I know how much you love going to weddings … as long as they aren't your own."

"Now Julia, it's not my fault that I haven't found the perfect lady for me yet," he chided her. "I have a lot to offer the right woman, and you know I deserve a woman who has a lot to offer in return."

"Yes, yes, Draco. We all know that you're holding out for your dream lady. Meanwhile, let's start working through this list to see what projects we're going to fund in the next quarter, hm?"

First they discussed the various charities and projects they were already funding, deciding to keep almost all of them in the folds of the Foundation. They then moved on to the newest requests for funding. Some foundations chose to fund only specific types of projects, but Draco's foundation considered applications for almost any use, from orphanages to animal welfare.

Julia pulled a packet from her folder and pushed it across the table to Draco. "This proposal looks very interesting. I think it's one you'll like and it fits well with other projects we're currently funding."

Draco glanced through the proposal quickly. "They want to research a hallucinogenic drug?"

"Yes. It is made from a plant that grows in Central Africa, and has been used to treat Muggles who are addicted to drugs such as heroin and cocaine. The researcher is interested in testing it's use for the magical community to counteract hallucinogenic spells and hexes that mimic the affects on the body that illicit Muggle drugs do."

His steely eyes moved quickly to the final page of the proposal. "What are the perceived benefits of this if it's successful?"

"They estimate that this could help several hundred witches and wizards per year who've met with accidents or foul play from spells or potions that cause hallucinations."

"How long do they estimate they'll need funding?"

Julia checked the paperwork. "Looks like two years, with the option to ask for renewal at that time."

Draco tilted his head as he considered the possibilities. "Let's do it. We'll give them funding each quarter, but ask for a quarterly report on their progress."

"Right." Julia scribbled a note to herself on the paperwork. "Okay, we only have one or two more to get through here, then we're done until next month."

The elevators in the main Ministry of Magic building were running slow. Apparently the magical power source had been interrupted by a solar flare, so they were operating at lower power levels until the system could be restored.

Hermione found herself squeezed between a portly man with a sheen of sweat on his forehead, two witches who were talking about the latest issue of Witch Weekly magazine while making large gestures that could put an eye out, and a younger man who was thin to the point of painfulness with a gaunt look about the eyes. She swayed a bit back and forth so she wasn't touching any one person all the time. Finally she reached her floor and exited the elevator to make her way to the Office of Research and Development where her meeting was to be held.

The secretary showed her to a conference room with glass walls overlooking the rest of the offices and cubicles. Roman Smythe walked through the door and took his seat just as the clock ticked over to 1:00 on the dot.

"Afternoon, Hermione. How are things going?"

"Very well, thank you. I've worked up an initial report on the new sleep potion I have been developing. I am hoping that with more testing we can confirm that it is less addictive than other potions that are currently available to help with sleep disturbances. I'll send it over in the next day or two."

"I look forward to reading it. We may need to have you write another grant proposal to get some funding for that when you're ready to move into the research phase of it. Speaking of which, I have good news about the grant application you filed. I turned it over to a large foundation that funds projects such as yours, and it has been approved. You have two years of funding at the full amount you requested."

Hermione's mouth dropped open for a moment as Roman's words sank in. "Full funding? I can't believe it! This is fabulous news! Oh, I am looking forward to getting started on this research!" Her face was radiant, and her smile was wide and contagious. Roman could only smile in return as he saw her response.

"This calls for a celebration, I think. Would you like to go to dinner tonight?" He cleared his throat a bit as he asked the question, suddenly hit with a bit of nervousness.

Hermione was quick to agree. "I would love that, Roman. Where should we go?" She had been watching him for months, and she knew he was quite popular among the young witches of their generation. He was tall, with wavy brown hair he wore very short and combed back. He had light brown eyes that were almost golden in the right kind of light. He was quite fit and toned from his weekend Quidditch play, and she thought she'd be hard pressed to find another more handsome wizard in the whole Ministry building.

He thought for a moment before asking if she'd like to go to an Italian restaurant he had recently learned of that was famous for its fresh pasta and sauces. They finalized the details and finished the items on the agenda for their meeting. His warm eyes rested on her lingeringly as she left the office and she felt a warmth growing in her center as she saw the slightly predatory smile that curved his lips as he watched her go.

After they had finished their meal, Hermione and Roman sipped after-dinner coffees while they continued talking. She was discovering he was articulate and intelligent in many areas outside of those they shared with their work. She wasn't surprised at this discovery, but she was enjoying learning about him on a more personal level.

He was making a point about the benefits of teaching basic healing skills to witches and wizards when they were in their teens. "If you think about it, everyone should have a basic knowledge about caring for the sick and injured. There is no reason simple healing and repairing spells can't be taught to even the youngest of us. Personally, I believe there should be a yearly course at Hogwarts from Years 1 to 5, building on the healing skills each year. Then, all students would leave school with a firm grasp on healing. Can you imagine how many lives could be saved if most of our population learned how to address illness and accidents?"

His eyes were shining with enthusiasm as he leaned closer to her over the table to emphasize his words. She couldn't help but smile in return, seeing the same passion for ideas that she had regarding SPEW and other projects that were close to her heart. Impulsively, she leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his lips, surprising him into silence. He looked at her silently for one, two, three beats before he moved towards her and kissed her in return. His lips were soft but insistent. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, opening again as they drew back from each other. She started to say something to him when her eyes were drawn to someone over his shoulder a couple of tables away. As she gathered her flustered thoughts, she realized she was seeing Malfoy. Again. While she didn't usually engage in public displays of affection, a quick peck could hardly be construed as inappropriate, she thought as she watched him.

His expression was one of interest. She wasn't one for blushing, but if she were, she knew she'd be flushed red by now from the way his hard grey-blue eyes were pinning her down. He smiled then, raising his eyebrows suggestively, then lifted his glass to her before taking a deep drink of his Firewhiskey. She reacted instinctively, without thought. She slowly drew the tip of her pink tongue across her upper lip without breaking eye contact with him, then looked back to her date with a dazzling smile. _'You're not the only one who can engage in nonverbal sparring, Malfoy,'_ she thought. '_You always think you're the one in control, but sometimes, you aren't.'_

Draco continued to watch her thoughtfully long after she looked away. He smirked at the thought of the prissy brain of the Golden Trio being deliberately sensual. He couldn't help but wonder if she could keep it up beyond superficial flirtation. Somehow, he thought perhaps she could. _'Bring it on, Granger. I haven't had a good challenge in … well, maybe never. Bring it on.'_


	4. I Can Dream About You

_It was late. Very late. The eery sounds made by the castle seemed to ring in his ears as he made his way stealthily through the hallways. With years of practice, he had learned to be almost silent as he moved swiftly from place to place. He felt more at home at Hogwarts when it was dark and deserted like this than he did when it was full of bright sunshine and the milling throngs of students. _

_He never could sleep very well, and since he had been given his tasks from the Dark Lord he slept even less. Once he'd spent some time in the Room of Requirement trying to repair that infernal cabinet, he would walk the halls of Hogwarts until the darkest moment of night before the dawn began, then he would return to his dormitory and try to sleep for a couple of hours before classes. _

_Another wave of weariness settled over him like a bag of sand set onto a scale. He was completely alone, although surrounded by all the other people of the school. He was frightened and sad and utterly alone to finish tasks that no one should face, let alone a teenager. This is what he was raised for, but that didn't make it any easier. The lives of his parents rested on his shoulders, and he was almost certain that they could not bear the weight without collapsing. If Mother and Father died, it would be his fault. _

_He was pulled from his morbid thoughts by a sound so soft he almost wondered if he'd heard it all. He froze and slipped behind a tapestry hanging from the stone wall. He held his breath for a moment, the silence of the hallway pounding in his ears. He could hear his blood rushing through his veins as he waited to see if there was someone nearby. Soon, he heard the rustling sound of robes and soft steps moving towards him and he stole a glance from behind the tapestry to see who had joined him in his middle of the night sojourn. _

_The figure moved past him and it was her scent that told him who she was. The clean, crisp scent of green apples and vanilla. It was Granger. Impulsively, he slipped from the tapestry and began to move behind her. Within moments she had whirled around, her wand pointed at him before he could react. _

_'Who's there?' Her voice was unafraid. She caught a glimpse of his silver-blond hair in the candlelight of a nearby sconce and drew a sharp breath. 'Malfoy, if that is you I am going to hex you from here to London and back.'_

_He couldn't contain a small laugh at her bravado. 'Oh dear, Granger. I'm just trembling in my boots. I can't decide if I should scream in terror or faint.'_

_She gave a small laugh as well. 'Personally it would bring me great joy to see you do either of those. What are you doing here at three in the morning? It goes without saying it's against every rule for either of us to be here.'_

_'Sometimes rules matter less than sanity. If I don't walk, I might go mental stuck in my dorm, so I choose to break the rules and take the risk of detention. It's better to be stuck cleaning the trophy room than it is to be out of your mind, don't you think?'_

_Hermione leaned her back against the wall as she pondered his words. 'I know what you mean. I thought if I had to stare at the top of my canopy for another minute I would set the whole thing on fire.'_

_'Why can't you sleep?'_

_'Why can't you?'_

_'I asked you first. What could possibly weigh so heavily on the bushy haired mind of the brightest witch of our age that she can't sleep? Scared of getting an "E" on an exam and ruining your perfect record?'_

_Her dark eyes flashed at him as he stepped towards her. 'You seriously underestimate me if that's the only reason you can come up with for me to be unable to sleep. I have as many things weighing on me as you do, just for different reasons.'_

_'I suppose you do.' His voice was soft and dark, like running her cheek across velvet. 'It almost suffocates me at times and I have to walk if I want to breathe. Lately, all I do is walk.'_

_He was standing in front of her with a pensive look on his face. She could see the sadness in his eyes and the comfort of her hatred for him slipped just a bit. She didn't often stop to think that he, too, was being placed into an impossible position at an impossibly young age, forced into actions that were far too dangerous and complicated to understand, let alone to complete. Though they approached the coming war from opposite sides, the fears they faced were not that different. _

_Draco watched her eyes as the various emotions played across her face while she thought about him. 'You and I have more in common than we think, don't we?' His voice was so quiet she almost couldn't hear him. _

_She nodded slightly and stepped forward from the wall. Her head tilted back as she looked into his stormy eyes. She could feel the heat radiating from him and felt a moment of surprise. He always looked so cold, yet here he was putting off heat that was so intense it was almost tangible. Her hand slowly raised to his face and lightly feathered across his cheek. Yes, he was hot and breathing and alive. He remained motionless, watching her as she touched him. _

_'I'm touching you and you aren't even flinching. Not scared that my mudblood will burn you or leave scars?' _

_His lips twisted up a bit. 'I'm not scared of your touch or your blood. I've learned that things that go bump in the night are much scarier than I thought, and it turns out being around "mudblood" isn't scary at all. Funny, isn't it?'_

_She moved even closer to him. Her lips were only inches from his and he could feel the warmth of her breath. Once again he could hear his blood pounding in his ears but he couldn't move. He didn't want to move. She felt just as soft and warm and smelled just as delicious as any other girl he'd ever been this close to, and his mind couldn't process that. There was nothing different here, his body was reacting just the same as it did to any pretty girl. _

_At that moment, she pressed her lips to his. Her eyes were still open, looking at him, and he couldn't resist putting his hands to her waist and pulling her against him. Her arms moved around his neck and he could feel her against every inch of his body. She kept kissing him. She was kissing him. Granger. He should be pulling back, he should be saying something horrid to her. He should … kiss her back._

_He gave into the moment and pushed his lips back against her soft ones. Her lips parted slightly and her tongue licked against his, asking him to allow her inside. Damn, she was so soft. And warm. Merlin's beard, she could kiss. Who taught her to kiss like this? _

_She felt his lips open to hers and their tongues met. They both shivered at this intimate touch and his hands pulled her against him even more closely as her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled his head to her at the same moment. They both finally closed their eyes and just allowed themselves to feel, allowed their thoughts to still._

_After several minutes of increasingly breathless kisses, with her fingers moving through his silky hair and his hands moving up and down her back, they slowly and reluctantly moved apart. They stood silent, looking at each other in disbelief. _

_Draco spoke first. 'I guess it's not a bad thing to realize that we're both people. We both feel and hurt and question things, don't we?'_

_She nodded at his words. 'I hope you can stay safe through what is coming, Malfoy. I hope you can remember that those you would wipe out, such as me, can feel as much and as passionately as you can. Every mudblood you murder is the same as murdering me.'_

_She spun on her heel and walked away. He watched her go and was surprised to realize that the numbness surrounding his emotions was shattered by her words. A sharp pain scissored through his heart, and he closed his eyes as he struggled to wrap himself once again in the comfort of the numbness that she had just broken. As the pain in his heart receded again, he released the breath he had been holding and turned to walk away in the opposite direction from her. _

There is something about the moment you awaken from sleep, that brief moment when there is no past and no future, but just the moment, the present, the right now. For Draco, that one moment was what he lived for every day. That one moment was the time he could be free of anything ... guilt, fear, boredom, pleasure. That one moment was the reason he loved weekends, when he could allow himself to drift back to sleep for awhile and experience that moment again later. Draco didn't open his eyes, relishing the few seconds of nothingness, stretching his lean body against his silken sheets.

Since it was Saturday, he rolled back over and tried to go back to sleep for a few more minutes, but his thoughts kept churning, so he opened his eyes to see the sun peeking through the heavy fabric on the window. He allowed his thoughts to drift aimlessly. Then, he remembered his dream. He'd dreamt of Granger and the time they had kissed at Hogwarts. He grimaced a bit. _'I supposed it's natural to dream about snogging her since I saw her kissing someone else just last night.'_

His business dinner the previous night had been successful, with the added bonus of getting to see Granger snogging on top of one of the tables like a high-priced call girl. It was enormously satisfying to see the Brain cutting loose a bit, although admittedly the kiss was rather calm. Knowing her social skills, she was too stiff to be passionate in public. That dream, however, reminded him vividly that she was capable of stunning amounts of electricity in private.

He smirked at the thought of some of his own public displays of 'affection'. They were usually calculated to get him something he needed or wanted, and they usually worked. It didn't hurt that each photo splashed in the paper added to his reputation as a desirable bachelor. One always needed a fresh source of willing witches when there were so many society functions to attend. As long as they didn't get too comfortable being the witch on his arm, he allowed them to stay at the periphery of his life. If one got too clingy, she was dropped from the rotation, never to be thought of again. He was young, desirable and rich. There would be plenty of time to settle down, someday. Maybe.

He lived at Malfoy Manor, but as a nod to his privacy, his parents had ceded the entire west wing of the house to him. If he didn't wish to, he could avoid the main house completely, although he often ate his meals with his parents in their spacious dining room. He enjoyed seeing his mother, and tried to enjoy seeing his father. Since the end of the war, all three of them had struggled to find a 'new normal'.

His father had spent the first couple of years under house arrest, and he still was not allowed to use a wand or practice magic. Even though he was now free to go where he pleased, he usually spent his time at one of their other homes outside of the country or at MBC, the parent company of all of the Malfoy holdings that he used to run full time and now helped Draco with from time to time.

"Toba!" He summoned his personal house elf. With a quick 'pop', Toba appeared at the side of his bed. He was wearing a blue pillowcase with a fleur de lis pattern embroidered on the ends in a darker blue thread, which made him look rather like a Roman senator in a blue toga.

"Good morning, Master Draco. Whats can I do for you, sir?"

"Bring me some toast and a large glass of orange juice please. I'm going to have breakfast here this morning."

Toba bowed his head and disappeared, then reappeared before Draco could even finish getting out of bed. He carefully set the tray with Draco's breakfast on the table by the fireplace, then turned to look at his master to receive his next instruction.

"Thank you, Toba. That's all I will need from you this morning. I'll see you this evening after my Quidditch match."

"Very goods, sir. Toba hopes Master Draco has an enjoyable games and has the snitches when he comes home!" With that, he disappeared from the room.

Draco gave a small laugh as he sat down to eat his toast while he looked through the _Daily Prophet_. The paper was full of relatively unimportant tidbits of news from the Wizarding world at large, including a plethora of social 'news' and gossipy articles. Although he cared very little about the latest maneuverings of those looking to marry or remarry or divorce, he usually glanced through this section quickly in order to stay abreast of the latest developments.

He found it advantageous in his business to know when a client was divorcing or a child was getting married. More than once he had avoided an awkward moment by knowing to refrain from asking how someone's wife was when in actuality she was now a former spouse lazing on the beaches of Aruba with the former checkout boy from Eeylops Emporium.

Giving a small sigh, he folded up the paper and turned to the Wizarding business paper. He scanned the columns quickly looking for information about both the Wizarding and Muggle companies in which MBC had an interest. He read a story about the development of a new treatment for Dragon Pox with interest. He had a knack for finding and investing in new potions and treatments before they were put on the market and had made a tidy profit from those investments in the past few years.

Although it wasn't imperative that he work, he and his parents agreed that keeping a positive presence in the Wizarding community was important. The company gave them some leverage and power in a society that was working hard to move away from keeping pureblood traditions alive, and it also gave his family more funds for charitable works and reparations for war damage. His mother, in particular, had thrown herself into her life as a charity matron with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, and he enjoyed being able to keep her bank accounts full so she could keep giving her money away. While their post-war charitable works had started as a way to regain some respect from the community after the war, his mother had found that it was her calling and had given her a meaning in her life that had been lacking before, and Draco and his father did all they could to encourage and assist her in order to keep the smile on her face that had been missing for so very, very long.

He gave a small sigh as he finished his breakfast and began to prepare to head to the office. Although it was a Saturday, he usually tried to spend a couple of hours in his office, using the quietness and the solitude to get through tasks that were more difficult to manage during the week. After a quick shower, he stood in front if his bathroom mirror and took a good look at himself. His hair was shorter than he'd worn it when younger, but he still had a fringe of hair that swooped across his forehead and covered his eyes when it fell too far forward. His lean frame was spare of any extra weight, and his muscles were well defined and firm thanks to the two or three Quidditch matches he managed to fit in to his busy schedule every week.

He shaved quickly, leaning close to the mirror to ensure he wasn't missing any stray whiskers. His eyes were the same curious mixture of grey and blue as his father's, and they tended to change color between those shades depending on his mood and the lighting. At times, the blue faded to the background and his irises were almost the color of brushed nickle. Other times, the grey seemed to recede and the blue came to the fore, making him seem younger and more energetic. The women he dated often commented on their jealousy that such gorgeous eyes were wasted on a man, which of course was a ridiculous thing to say. How else could he so easily glance across a bar and snag the attention of an attractive witch? Bedroom eyes were on a whole different level when his were the eyes under discussion, and he used that to his advantage on a regular basis. All part of his Slytherin charm, of course.

He quickly finished his morning routine and threw on some casual Muggle jeans and a button-down collar shirt under some simple robes before Flooing directly to his office. He went straight to his large, gleaming desk and got to work reading a stack of reports that were waiting for him. Hopefully time would speed by until he could mount his broom and lose himself in the joy of moving through the air.


	5. You're The One That I Want

**Disclaimer:** This work of fiction is **not** intended to be a _derivative work_ as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the _Harry Potter_ books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a _transformative work_ which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story.

Author's note: Please see the note at the end of this chapter. Also, from this chapter there will be more explicit sexual content, so if you are not comfortable with sexual situations or are not old enough to read them, please don't proceed. Thank you.

Every day was a work day for Hermione. She might take more time to read or have a meal on the weekends, but usually she spent several hours each day reading journal articles, writing reports on her research, or planning new projects to organize and fund. Some people enjoyed having languid, relaxing weekends, but she found it much more productive to work when no one else was around to bother her with questions and interruptions. Her office on the weekends reminded her of the library at Hogwarts. A few people here and there, a quiet hush, and an air of studiousness around each person made her feel as though she were in academia rather than a workplace.

She'd spent the whole afternoon doing some more research for her newly funded grant proposal. She needed to learn more about the physiology of addiction from both Muggle and Magical sources in order to plan her next steps in the project. She was fairly certain that a trip to Africa or perhaps South America would need to happen soon in order learn indigenous uses of the plant as well as to find a source of the plant itself for her ongoing research. She was excited at the thought of getting this project off the ground as soon as she could, so she planned to head to the Travel Bureau building to pick up some travel fliers from their lobby about the various places she may need to go.

She hummed softly as she packed up her leather case with everything she might need during the day tomorrow, then decided to enjoy the late day sunshine by walking to the Travel Bureau rather than Apparating. She walked as she always did, briskly. There was too much to do to take a leisurely stroll. She entered the lobby of the building and quickly gathered several travel brochures and information that she might need for her trips, then stepped outside and Apparated to the outside of the Leaky Cauldron. She went inside and waved to Tom, the owner.

"Hi, Tom. Can I get a dark ale, please?"

"Sure, Hermione. Take a seat and I'll bring it to you."

She nodded and found a table towards the back. She pulled out the travel brochures and lost herself looking at exotic pictures of Gabon and the Democratic Republic of Congo, slowly sipping her ale once Tom brought it to her. When she was finished, she gathered up all of her things and left a galleon on the bar.

"Thanks Tom, see you soon." He nodded to her as he dried a glass, and she stepped out the back door to make her way to Diagon Alley and home.

It had grown dark while she was inside, so she moved quickly to get to her flat. She had just turned down the side alley by Flourish and Blotts when she collided hard with someone. She turned to the side, putting her back against the bricks of the building behind her so the person move past her. She looked up to see the startled face of Malfoy.

He gave a sardonic smile. "I see you pay no more attention to where you're going now than you did during your years at Hogwarts, Granger. One would hope you'd become more watchful by now," he said teasingly. "Or, if this is a deliberate attempt to touch me, all you had to do was ask. No need to resort to brute violence." He was standing so close to her she could feel his breath on her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I see your self-esteem is still low, Malfoy. If I wanted to touch you, you'd know it." She noticed that his hair was slightly damp and freshly combed and that there was a delicious smell wafting from his direction towards her. He smelled like expensive soap and aftershave and who knew what, probably 'Eau de Malfoy', which should be bottled and sold for hundreds of galleons an ounce, she decided. Men would be fighting the ladies off with big sticks if it they wore it.

"Perhaps I figured after your little display of sauciness at dinner last night that you were itching to get your hands on me. That tongue of yours seemed to be sending an invitation."

She let out a gasp of laughter. "I was teasing, Malfoy. Surely you've been teased before without it having to go any further." She paused and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Then again, knowing you, maybe not."

His hands moved up to rest against the rough bricks on either side of her head. The blond head tilted towards her a little bit. In the shadows of the alley, his eyes were dark and grey. "Teasing? I should've known the the goody two shoes of Hogwarts was just … teasing." The smirk lifted one side of his mouth.

She looked into his eyes and her full lips quirked up at the corners in a smile. "That's the trouble with almost all of you boys at Hogwarts. You assumed that because I was smart girl, I was also a good one. Your continuous need to fit me into _your_ idea of what I was, of what I should be, meant that you never really knew me at all."

Hermione grabbed the front of his leather jacket and pulled him closer as she pressed her lips against his, hard. He seemed frozen for a moment, then began to move his lips against hers. Thoughts were whizzing through his head like broomsticks at a Quidditch game. _'Holy shit, is she kissing me? Wait, am I kissing her? What the hell is … damn, her lips are soft, she tastes so mmm …'_ He growled deep in his throat and sank his fingers into the hair at the back of her head and held her steady while he kissed her back, nudging her lips apart with his tongue and feeling an electric thrill run straight down his body as he felt her warm tongue flicking against his own. He couldn't help pushing his hips into hers, instinctively wanting to move his growing erection against this deliciousness that had accosted him in a dark alley.

She didn't let go of his jacket, but continued to grip him tightly as she felt him moving against her. '_What are you doing, Hermione? You are the one kissing Malfoy, _again_. The most sarcastic ball of twit to ever attend Hogwarts, the one who voiced his racism against you time and again, the one who … Merlin, the one who can kiss …' _Although she was the queen of multitasking, she couldn't seem to think and kiss this, this … ferret … no, man. Ferret … no, most definitely MAN. She broke her lips away from his and gasped in a breath. He allowed her some lifesaving air, then immediately tried to pick up where they had left off.

"Malfoy, stop. Someone could walk by at any minute."

He pulled back a bit. "You should've thought of that before you launched a full-frontal assault on my lips." He once again dipped his head to her, his hands remaining as firmly clenched in her hair as hers were on his jacket. "Besides, your body is saying something very different than your lips are … no, wait, your lips are saying it too." His voice was husky and he seemed very, very focused on seeing if he could be the paint and she could be the wall.

She pushed against his chest and stiffened her arms to hold him bodily away from her. "Do you really want to see photos of yourself in Witch Weekly kissing me? That would be difficult to explain to your friends, don't you think?"

"You don't honestly believe that I give two shits about what anyone thinks about me, do you?" His eyes were hard, yet hot as he looked down at her.

She felt a shiver go down her spine as she realized that he truly did not care what anyone else thought about him snogging a Muggleborn witch that he purportedly hated in a dark alley just off Diagon Alley.

She looked at him a bit dazedly as she tried to figure out what she had done here. Had she turned on his 'sex mode' button? If so, could it be turned off again without actually doing anything? Did she want to turn it off?

"What's the matter Granger? Going to just tease after all?" He laughed lightly as he moved his hands from her hair to cup her face. His thumbs were rubbing across her cheeks and his eyes weren't moving from her lips. She shook herself and moved more firmly away from him, keeping her arms stiff between them so he couldn't get closer to her and turn off her brain functioning again.

He smirked a bit and shook his head. "It's alright. I still enjoyed this little tryst. Unexpected, yet entertaining."

She took a deep breath. "Come here." She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back down the dark alley, almost pulling his arm out of it's socket.

"Ow! What are doing, kidnapping me? If you are, I can promise that I'll make it worth your while." He wiggled his eyebrows at her as she rolled her eyes and dragged him along. "If you aren't kidnapping me, then might I suggest you should? My family has a lot of money, you know. I'm sure they would pay handsomely to get their only heir returned to them safely."

He continued on jabbering at her as she dragged him up the stairs beside the building to her flat. The door flew open with a flick of her wrist and she pulled him inside the darkened interior.

Finally, Malfoy's mouth stopped moving and he fell silent, looking around as she pulled him through the door. "Granger, where are we?"

"This is my home. Didn't the couch give it away?"

"No, but all those bookcases did." He snorted and she laughed. "So tell me, why have you dragged me to your abode? If you are kidnapping me, might I suggest you tie me up?" He extended his arms to her, wrists together.

"Don't tempt me, Blondie." She took two large steps until she was right in front of him.

"Only if you don't tempt me, Witch." His teasing demeanor subsided and he looked at her with serious grey eyes. "Did you bring me here for a reason?"

She turned on her heel and walked to her bedroom, leaving him to follow if he so chose. She'd never done anything this impulsive in her whole life, and didn't know why she was doing it now, but for once in her life she was just going to give in and go with it instead of thinking things to death.

Draco stood there for a second, wondering if this was really happening with Hermione "Don't Touch Me or I'll Hex Your Bullocks Off" Granger or not, then shrugged and followed.

Authors Note: Hello. I know I haven't written any notes so far, and I don't really intend to very often. While I would appreciate constructive criticism on my story, I also don't want to clutter this story with lots of notes, especially notes begging for reviews. :) Also, I don't plan on explaining what is happening in the story as I have seen many fanfic authors do. Isn't that what is supposed to happen within the story? If those reading it don't understand it, then I need to write the story better, not tack on a bunch of notes at the end. If you have any questions please feel free to message me anytime. Thanks for reading, Lisa


	6. Electric Company

**Disclaimer:** This work of fiction is **not** intended to be a _derivative work_ as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the _Harry Potter_ books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a _transformative work_ which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story.

Author's Note: This chapter is for mature audiences only. If you aren't old enough to read it, turn back now. Also, I understand this site is removing a lot of stories with sexual content. If that happens, I will begin submitting this story to H and V instead. Sorry for the delay on this chapter, my stepfather passed away last week and this couldn't be my focus.

When Draco entered Hermione's bedroom, he was following more out of curiosity than really expecting anything to happen. _'This can't be happening, she hates me.' _That thought kept running through his head. Then again, anything was possible and she certainly was a saucy witch. The simplicity of her approach to him was very appealing. She seemed to want him, so she grabbed him. Nicely done, in his opinion. Most ladies were much more indirect. Lots of cooing, eyelash batting, "innocent" rubbing, giggling. Merlin, if there was anything in the world he hated, it was giggling. If something is funny, just laugh. If it's mildly funny, smirk. What need is there for a giggle, ever?

He might stick around for this just because Hermione Granger didn't giggle. It could be worth it to have a quick shag and not have to deal with one giggle or one case of eyelash batting. He glanced around the room, taking in the extreme tidiness of the room and the lack of the typical feminine adornment of the space. It was nicely decorated, but with rich colors of cream and gold and blue rather than the pinks, whites and florals he usually saw in these types of situations. His eyes came to rest on Hermione, standing by her bed. It was a large four poster bed and she was leaning against one of the end posts with her arms crossed over her chest, watching him as he looked around. While his brain told him to look at her eyes, he couldn't stop looking at all of her. Her tall, lean frame, the way her hair was shining in waves over one shoulder, her intriguing lips that were so soft and yet could be so demanding.

Hermione was feeling amused as she watched surprise, humor, lust and curiosity flicker across his face. "You know, nothing has to happen here, Malfoy. We're both adults. I took the chance you may want what I want, but if not, no hard feelings."

"What do you want, Granger? I admit I'm a bit confused."

"You seem to have the ability to make me irrationally horny. Even at Hogwarts, there were times my dislike of you wasn't strong enough to cover up the fact that you were physically appealing to me, even if you were a right git most of the time." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I figure after all these years of curiosity about what you'd be like in bed, I'd find out."

"Sooo you want sex? No strings attached?"

"Basically. Do you have a problem with that?"

Draco could hardly keep from laughing out loud. Would any man in the world have a problem with that? Okay, perhaps if he was receiving this proposition from Minerva McGonagall he'd be less than willing, but face it, Hermione was a far cry from matronly. In fact, she was so far from it that she was actually incredibly desirable. He wasn't sure why, she certainly wasn't his usual "type". He shrugged mentally. _'Maybe not being my type isn't a bad thing. Look where it's gotten me,' _he thought to himself.

Not trusting himself to speak at that moment, he simply raised his eyebrows and shook his head at her.

"No, I have no problem with it."

"Good." She moved over to him, stopping just a couple of inches away from him. Her head tilted as she looked at him, and she pushed her fingers through his hair slowly. He wasn't moving, just watching her with a perplexed look on his face. She slowly began pushing each button on his shirt through its hole, gradually working her way down towards his pants. When they were all unfastened, she pushed his shirt back and he let if slip off his arms to the ground. Her soft hands ran over his chest to his shoulders as she silently let him fill all of her senses. His breaths, coming softly but quickly, his warmth radiating to her like the sun through a window, his skin silky beneath her fingers. Her whole body was moving languidly, as though she had all the time in the world. She felt his nipples under her palms and moved her fingers to them, rubbing over them until they became hard. She bit her bottom lip and kept moving her hands, over his firm stomach and around to feel his lower back. She was watching what she was doing, but flickering glances up to his face to see how he was reacting to her touch. When their eyes met, he said volumes without speaking a word.

He still hadn't touched her, instead allowing himself to be in this moment of exquisite touch. Just as she was enjoying the feel of his skin, he was enjoying the feel of her hands. They were moving with confidence all over his torso, and the contrast of her slightly cool hands on his warm skin was making him shiver.

Moving back from him a bit, Hermione grabbed the bottom of her shirt and lifted it over her head. As she dropped it to the floor, her eyes met his and he recognized the challenge in them. It was the same look she gave him at Hogwarts, giving as good as she got when he would try to show her and her friends just how below him they were in almost any measure. When he saw that look when they were younger, he knew he'd have to dig deep to come up with something to knock her off balance. His stomach felt the same thrill as it did all those years ago, the challenge and heat coming off of her making him want to engage in battle with her again. Even when he lost to her, she always made him feel as good as though he'd won, just because she was such a challenge to him in every way. He suspected that she had felt the same way, satisfied when she emerged the victor, yet still gratified just to have had the battle at all with a worthy opponent.

His eyes briefly glanced to her white bra, a small edging of lace making him want to dip his fingers behind it to feel the silkiness of the skin he could see behind it. She moved forward to him again and pressed her chest against his. His hands went to the small of her back, gliding upward slowly until they were hidden under her thick hair. With a quick snapping movement of his fingers, her bra was opened and he moved back to allow it to join their other clothes on the floor. They drew sharp breaths in on both sides, he feeling mesmerized by the sight of her beauty, and she feeling the heat pulsing off of her skin as she watched his expressive eyes show their appreciation of her.

She was seized with a desire to feel his bare skin against hers, so she arched her back and allowed her taut stomach to touch his, then gradually allowed her nipples to approach his, rubbing herself softly back and forth over his chest. Her head was tilted back slightly and Draco couldn't keep his lips from the pulsing beat he could see on her neck. His hands returned to the small of her back while she kept hers down at her side, turning her head to allow him more access to the sensitive skin of her neck and shoulders. He breathed deeply, loving the scent of apples and vanilla and spiciness that was wafting from her skin and hair. His tongue darted out to make random licks across her salty-sweet skin, and he was almost dizzy from the softness of her skin and hair on his hands, and the taste of her skin, and the sounds of her breathing near his ear.

The parts of his mind that wanted to think about what was happening kept getting distracted.

His fingers moved to the button of her jeans, expertly opening it and sliding down the zipper in one easy motion. They moved to the smooth flesh over her hips and stomach and he heard a throaty groan from her as he moved them over her skin with the lightest of touches. He could feel the lace of her knickers and was torn between tearing them off of her or torturing himself by keeping her covered as long as possible. She decided for him when she quickly took both off and then began removing his trousers. When he was only in his boxers, she pulled him to her bed. She laid back against the pillows and her hair spilled around her as though she were a mermaid under water. Her cheeks were slightly pink and her eyes were steady on him as he lay beside her, propped up on an elbow as he ran his other hand over her cheek to her neck, and then to linger over one breast. He cupped it in one hand gently, then bent to kiss her.

She met his lips eagerly, parting hers as his tongue gently ran across her bottom lip. There was an electricity between them that felt to Hermione as though it were flowing all through her, leaving her tingling and anticipating the next wave of pleasure. She twined her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and kept him from removing his lips from hers. Their tongues grew more frantic as they danced around one another's lips and teeth, relishing the warmth and softness and wetness they found there. She shuddered as another bolt of electricity shot through her, and he groaned deep in his throat as he felt her nipple harden underneath his palm.

A quiet descended over the room, broken only by low moans and quick breaths as they concentrated their energy on each other. In her mind, Hermione realized that although she hadn't been with a man for several months, she was much more aroused than she would have expected. There was no way to keep the frenetic energy that was building within her from him, and she couldn't have stopped moving her hands over his body if Rita Skeeter herself was standing there watching. She was famous for not losing control, and she was a bit shaken to realize that at this moment, she had very little control over her body or her emotions.

The platinum-haired playboy who was strumming her body as though she were a tightly wound string instrument was becoming disturbed. Not at the situation, oh hell no. But his reactions to this sudden tryst were almost overwhelming. Why was he having such a difficult time controlling himself? It wasn't like he had been through a sexual drought lately, there were witches everywhere he turned only too willing to race to his bed. He prided himself on his restraint during encounters with women, but right now he felt as though he were sixteen and seeing a woman without clothes for the first time. Part of him wanted to start quoting Quidditch statistics to keep himself from making this a disaster, but he couldn't help but let himself fall into the silky heat of her skin and her lips until he could think of nothing at all but the beautiful witch beneath him.

His lips were still lingering on hers as he realized he was shaking. It was slight, but there. At first he thought it may be because of the tingling he felt wherever his skin touched hers, but he realized suddenly that it was also excitement and nerves. He wanted this to be amazing for her. He pulled away to look at her, and his eyes were as dark as thunderclouds as she met his gaze. He couldn't speak, but his facial expression asked the question he knew she was wondering as well. What the _hell_ was this? She swallowed convulsively and he felt her body shudder underneath him as she too was overwhelmed by the rush of energy exchanged in their wordless look. There was a slight shaking of her head, then her eyes closed as she arched up to him and pressed her lips back to his. Abandoning his question for the moment, he grabbed her hair and pushed his hips against hers while he returned her kiss with heat.

Her hands didn't stop moving, across his chest, around his neck, through his hair, over his shoulders. He felt her hips beginning to move under his as she tried to create friction between them and he groaned with the rush of desire to plunge himself into her and pound her into the mattress until they both collapsed. Instead, he moved a hand across her smooth stomach to the curve of her hip, then up to her waist. Slowly, it moved up to cup her breast again and he dipped his head to suckle one rosy nipple as his thumb brushed lightly over the other. Her undulating hips grew more persistent and he began pushing back against her, feeling his erection pulsing between them.

Hermione's back arched as she pushed herself deeper into his mouth. His hand left the other breast and trailed down to the curls at the cleft of her legs. She felt a moment of shock as his his hand delved between her thighs, parting them slightly, then another more powerful shock as his long fingers stroked over her wetness. She moaned deep in her throat and spread her legs wider, hoping he would continue his exploration. The tip of one finger dipped between the folds and made a slight entrance into her tightness, teasingly resting for a moment before withdrawing and moving up to her find her clitoris. His lips abandoned her breast and moved up her chest to her neck, where he nipped at her skin then ran his tongue across each bite to ease the sting. His fingers never stopped moving between her legs and she was distracted with each nibble on her neck and then each circle over her clit, making her want to grab his hand and force him to plunge a finger into her more deeply.

Instead, her hand trailed down his chest to the waistband of his boxers. She pulled the elastic out and down, releasing his hardness. "_Toglieros_," she murmured. His head jerked up as he felt his boxers slide off his body, with no resistance from where his legs rested against her or the bed. They fell gracefully into a little heap on the floor at the end of the bed.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly, a shock of his blonde hair falling almost into his eyes. Hermione shrugged lightly, then grinned at him. "Just a little spell I came up with to make garment removal easier."

Draco couldn't help but smile broadly and give a chuckle. "You could be a millionaire with spellwork like that, Granger."

"Who says I'm not?", she smirked back at him.

At this he laughed aloud again and returned his lips once more to the graceful curve where her neck met her shoulder. He felt her hand wrap around his erection, moving softly up and down the hard length and groaned, savoring the feeling of her thumb swiping over the wet tip, spreading his wetness all over and driving him up the wall with desire. His own hand returned to her heated center, where his thumb moved gently but persistently over her clit while a finger plunged deep into her tightness. Once again their eyes met and their look moved from smouldering to fiery as his fingers moved in and out of her while her hand stroked him in the same rhythm. Her hand left him to grab his hip and urge him to move between her legs, and he willing rolled over until the head of his cock was resting against her hot entrance. He held his body still and gave a sharp thrust of his hips, burying himself in her as deeply as he could in one thrust. He froze for a few moments, knowing the tight wetness surrounding him could make him come right then.

He felt her begin moving against him, so he slowly began responding to her thrusts with slow, measured thrusts of his own. He pulled all the way out, paused, and slowly entered her over and over until she was panting and pushing her pelvis against him as hard as she could to move him as deeply inside of her as possible. Their breathing quickened as their pace began to increase. Each time he looked down at her she was looking back at him with warm eyes that did nothing to shield her pleasure. Her openness to him was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen, and when she closed her eyes and threw her head back as she neared her climax he wanted to crawl inside her deliciousness and never come out.

He felt her insides begin to clench around him as she began to come, and he gasped and moved furiously in and out of her, feeling his own release building up inexorably until he exploded with her and emptied himself inside of her. He gave a guttural growl that vibrated inside her chest and made her own orgasm lengthen and continue, her smooth walls pulsating around his cock until they both gradually ceased movement and panted until their breathing began to return to normal. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, their perspiration mingling as they lay joined together.

Hermione had watched his expression as he came inside of her, and the look of abandonment he wore wasn't something she would soon forget. He was always so composed and calm, so it was amazing to see his vulnerability as he completely let go inside of her. His head thrown back, his eyes shut, his hair clinging to the sweat around his face combined to make the perfect picture of sexual bliss. She closed her eyes and sighed with contentment at the utter relaxation she was feeling after their mutual release.

He mumbled something against her neck. She wasn't sure what he said, but she thought she heard "What the fuck was that, Granger?" She smirked to her bedroom ceiling before replying.

"Hot, Malfoy. Fucking hot."


	7. The Golden Arches

**Disclaimer:** This work of fiction is **not** intended to be a _derivative work_ as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the _Harry Potter_ books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a _transformative work_ which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story.

Previously:

_He mumbled something against her neck. She wasn't sure what he said, but she thought she heard "What the fuck was that, Granger?" She smirked to her bedroom ceiling before replying. _

"_Hot, Malfoy. Fucking hot."_

Chapter 7 The Golden Arches

Draco gave a snort of laughter at Hermione's words, then rolled onto his side to look at her. Pale golden eyebrows arched so high they were hidden behind the fringe of hair hanging over his forehead. He seemed to be stunned into speechlessness at hearing her coarse language, then gathered his wits and spoke. "So … what's this you were saying about being a bad girl at Hogwarts?"

"There were some rules that were meant to be broken, and when necessary, I did so. Perhaps I wasn't the innocent I seemed, but you'll never know because you needed me to fit your stereotype of an unattractive, brainy, goody two shoes Mudblood."

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, envisioning a "bad" Hermione Granger at Hogwarts. What he saw made him want to groan with regret. When his lids raised, she was looking at him with a glint of humour in her eyes. "My mistake, Granger. Never judge a bookworm by her cover."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyhow. You and I were as opposite as can be and neither of us would have ever compromised our beliefs to be publicly civil to each other, let alone to be, shall we say, 'naughty' together."

"There were a few times we were civil to each other. The things you said to me during those moments were enough to plant the seeds of doubt about the Pureblood ideology I'd been raised to embrace. I never thought to question it until you came along. I may not have made the right choices, especially early on, but your words brought up questions in me that needed to be asked, and answered."

"And the things you said to me helped me to realize how trapped you were in the situation, the same as Harry and Ron and I were. You were trapped on the other side, but trapped nonetheless. None of us should have had to be in that position at our ages, but I suppose we all did what we must." She grew quiet for a moment, contemplating what they had been through as teenagers, then shook her head and smiled. "So, is there somewhere you should be right now?"

"I was just meeting some friends for a pint at Bludger's Pub. We meet there every week after our pick-up Quidditch game."

"Are you meant to be going, then?"

"Do you want me to be going?"

Her brown eyes looked into his gray ones steadily. They each realized at that moment that they'd rarely seen the other's eyes looking so soft instead of hard and angry. She reached a finger and slowly traced it down the aristocratic planes of his cheek, trailing down to his chin and finally across his full bottom lip. She snagged his lip a bit and pulled it down with her finger and felt a shiver go down her spine at the sight of his lips slightly parted. They were so soft and warm.

"I don't know how to answer that. It's fine with me if you stay or go." Her eyes stayed on his lips as they formed a reply.

"Did you know that you've been licking your lips for the past five minutes? It's very distracting." He reached out a hand and touched her lips as she had been touching his moments before and she shivered again. His eyes were darker and stormier than they had been before she touched him. His head dipped towards her and he kissed her very slowly and very softly.

His hands came to both sides of her head and his fingers moved into her hair, holding her lips to his while he pushed her back onto the pillow. To her frustration, he didn't seem to be in a hurry to deepen the kiss as he moved his lips against hers with the lightest of pressure. The skin where their bodies touched grew pleasantly warm against the coolness of the rest of their bodies and it was an indulgence to slowly rub against each other and revel in that feeling while their lips continued their gentle dance with each other.

When she finally felt his tongue moving softly on her bottom lip, she felt her spine stiffen at the sensation of wet heat. She breathed a soft sigh and opened her mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to carefully explore her lips and tongue without her responding. Gradually his kiss became more insistent, as though he were wordlessly asking her to want him as much as he wanted her. She granted his request and began moving her tongue against his and in and out of his mouth. His fingers in her hair tightened as he pressed ever closer to her as though he wanted to climb inside her and feel her from the inside out.

Hermione wasn't sure if she had ever kissed someone like this. She felt as though they had all the time in the world and that he was gifting her with an awareness of each tiny sensation of what each was making the other feel. Desire began to lick up like a flame over her insides, tightening at her core, and she had to move her lips from his to regain a feeling of control over herself. His lips just continued to move, fluttering kisses across her cheeks and down her neck to the dip where her throat met her chest. Small flicks of his tongue brought heat that was immediately cooled by his breath and the contrast between the two feelings was focusing her attention again on his lips and what they were doing to her.

She could feel him growing hard against her hip once again and it surprised her, for some reason, to realize that they were about to make love again. She wasn't sure he'd even want her once, let alone twice. Her limbs felt heavy and she slowly lifted her arms to run her hands down his back and over his muscular bottom. He drew in his breath sharply as her hands moved over his hips and he pressed his length harder against her.

His eyes were half-closed as his lips danced across her skin, and he had to control the urge to start sucking and licking and biting every bit of her exposed skin. "Taste … so … good ..." was all he could manage to get out between breaths.

Hearing his husky voice brought a whimpering moan from Hermione. She tried to reply. "Mm … want … oh ..." His lips nipped an especially sensitive spot on the side of her neck just then. She knew she would cringe with embarrassment later, but for now she was too aroused to care that she couldn't form a simple sentence.

Draco's sex-drugged voice drifted to her ears once more. "Mm-hm, want too …" His leg moved between hers to open her up to him, and he moved in a fluid motion to position himself at her entrance again. His eyes were closed tightly as he slowly entered her and pulled back again, and she found herself unable to look away from the vulnerable look of pleasure she could see on his face. She took this chance to look at him, to memorize each feature of the face that had matured so since she'd known him years before. The roundness of his features from his childhood was completely gone, replaced by angles and lines that she never would've guessed he'd have back when he was young.

She moved her legs together, gripping him between her thighs and halting his hips. He opened his eyes to look at her, but before he could get a proper look at her, she had used the strong muscles in her legs to roll both of them over. Her movements were so quick he was still deep within her, and he quickly adjusted to the fact that she was now on top of him. His hands came to her waist to steady her, but she controlled the depth and speed of their coupling as she moved steadily above him. Now it was his turn to watch her as she threw herself into their pleasure, running her hands over his chest, her hair bouncing around her shoulders in time with her movements.

He resisted moving his hips for as long as he could, but finally he had to grip her hips tightly so he could somewhat control the pace as he moved in and out of her tightness. They were moving together faster and faster, the only sounds quick breathing and small, throaty sounds of pleasure. Draco was vaguely aware of her luscious breasts moving as she writhed above him, but he knew he couldn't let go of her hips to caress them because he had to keep urging her to increase her pace to keep up with his need.

When she moved her hand to the delta between her legs and began rubbing herself in time with her movements over him, he knew he was lost. Her open pleasure in what they were doing was one of the most incredibly erotic things he'd ever seen, especially knowing how shy and awkward she had been when they were growing up. She had taught him years ago that the stereotype of a 'Mudblood' being lesser and undeserving was wrong, and now she was thoroughly teaching him that a shy girl didn't mean a repressed woman. He was enjoying this lesson completely.

Her insides began to tighten around his hardness and he knew she was quickly approaching another climax. One hand continued to rub between her legs while the other brushed over one of her dusky nipples. Her eyes were closed, her head slightly tossed back, and her tongue was sliding over her lips leaving a gleaming trail of wetness. Her back was arched and her golden brown hair was moving like a sheet of supple fabric against her skin.

As he felt her moistness grow, the very center of her core began pulsating, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her face as she exploded with a powerful orgasm. He held off as long as he could, enjoying the feeling of her squeezing around his hardness, but finally he too let go and abandoned himself to the electric tingling that seemed to shock his entire body into jerking inside of her as deeply as he could. As he came, Hermione's own orgasm lengthened and she continued to feel wave after wave of dizzying pleasure as he thrusted deep inside her.

The last wave of electricity was beginning to fade when she slumped forward, resting her head on his chest. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close against him and as he struggled to breathe normally again he relished the lightly sweaty scent of her hair and skin as it mingled with his. Gradually their breathing returned to normal, and she began to move away from him. He tightened his arms, keeping her above him, wordlessly asking her to stay joined with him for a while longer. He felt her relax against his chest again and that stayed that way, quiet and sated, together, until they both fell asleep.

It was a long while later before they stirred, Hermione slipping to his side while keeping one leg in between his and her arm across his stomach. Draco wanted nothing more than to pull up a blanket and sleep with this soft ball of warmth that was next to him, but as he came awake he realized it probably wasn't the appropriate thing to do, given their circumstances.

_'Of course, what the hell _is_ the appropriate thing to do in these circumstances? Should I leave? Stay? Ask her what she wants me to do?'_ His mind registered many possibilities, but going back to sleep was the highest on his wish list. His uncertainty about what he should do was novel to him. Usually it was clear that _someone_ was getting up and leaving, and that there would be no literal 'sleeping together'. He wasn't sure why he felt differently this time, but he was too relaxed to try to figure it out … or even to care. His eyes closed again as he lazily rubbed his hand along the length of her arm.

Hermione sighed as similar thoughts went through her mind. She was certainly a modern woman, but she wasn't exactly a practiced femme fatale. Her sexual experiences had always been within a relationship, mostly with Ron, and she'd never learned to be nonchalant about having sex with someone and then saying a casual good-bye. _'And _this_ is why I don't usually have casual sex … because what the heck do I say now? If I ask him to go I sound like a prude; if I ask him to stay I sound clingy. Ugh! Okay, this has been worth a little end-of-night awkwardness, but I am not going to do a casual fling like this again anytime soon. I think. Unless I happen to almost knock down a hot, blond wizard in a dark alley again in the near future …'_ At this thought, she gave an indelicate snort of laughter that made Malfoy's eyes fly open.

He was looking at her questioningly, those pale barely-there eyebrows raised to ask what the joke was. There was a look of laughter in his eyes and she knew he was ready to share whatever it was she was finding funny, so she told him everything she had just been thinking.

"So, I am laying here wondering what to say to you, feeling like a gawky teenager. How do you Lotharios manage this part of a fling?" Her voice was still husky but lilting with humor.

"It is a rather indelicate part of this process, isn't it?" Draco thought for a moment about other spur of the moment 'encounters' he'd had, but he realized none of them compared to this because none of them were with a woman he knew the way he knew her, and because none of the women were as … what was the right word? Selective? Moral? … as Hermione was. "I think maybe we're going to have to forge our own way here, Granger. I always leave, or have the woman leave as soon as possible. You apparently always have a nice cuddly sleepover." He paused for a moment as she smacked him across the head with the back of her hand.

"Hey now, just calling it like I see it. Are you implying I'm wrong about your sleepovers by this application of physical violence towards my person?" He laughed as she again began whacking him with both hands wherever she could reach that he wasn't defensively covering with his hands and arms. Finally he grabbed both of her wrists and wrestled her arms to her sides, laying over her slightly to hold her down so she couldn't keep attacking him. They both were a bit breathless from laughter, but she grew serious as she looked up at him while he had her pinned down. He smirked and lowered his lips towards hers. Just as her eyes closed in anticipation of their lips meeting, he released her wrists and began tickling her ribs and stomach. The sudden attack left her defenseless and she shrieked with laughter as she rolled back and forth trying to dislodge him from on top of her.

"Stop!" She was panting now. She was strong, but not strong enough to flip him off of her. Without her wand, that is. They both settled down, laughing a bit and enjoying each other's lighthearted moods. She rolled to her stomach, her hair around her head like a cloud of dandelion fluff. She forced a look of seriousness to her face. "So, what do you want to do? Leave, stay, or what? It's not like we planned this whole thing, so whatever you do isn't going to bother me."

He sighed and sat up. "I would like to stay, but I suppose I should head home to my own bed. That way we can avoid the uncomfortable conversation about pancakes versus waffles and sausage versus bacon in the morning." He gave her a brilliant smile and she couldn't help but smile back at his genuine humor. He had so rarely been like this when she knew him in school, and certainly never when she was in close proximity to him, so it was fascinating to her to see the haughty Pureblood let loose a little bit and enjoy himself.

She smiled in agreement, and slipped off the bed to pull on her robe. As she slipped into the loo for a moment, Draco found his clothing and redressed. He was waiting for her when she came back out. She grinned at him a bit sheepishly as they walked out to her door. He paused before opening the door and turned to her, holding her upper arms and pulling her into him for a moment. He kissed her forehead, then tilted her chin up with one slender finger.

"I don't know what this was, but I've enjoyed myself very much, Granger. I hope you did too."

She nodded and smiled, folding her arms across her chest. "I did enjoy this evening, Malfoy. Thanks for being such a good sport about being attacked in an alley."

He dropped another quick kiss on her forehead, then opened the door. He looked back once and gave a wave. She heard him lightly running down the outside steps and a moment later she heard a faint popping sound as he Disapparated home.

She closed the door and leaned against it, still hugging herself and smiling bemusedly. For once in her life, she had acted on an impulse, and she was amazed that she was feeling no regret. It was much better, in her opinion, than the regret she so often felt from ignoring her impulses and not doing what she wanted to do. She resolved to listen to her gut instinct more often, especially if it involved letting go. Really, really letting go …


	8. Rubber Bands

**Disclaimer:** This work of fiction is **not** intended to be a _derivative work_ as that term applies to the rights of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et al with regard to the world and characters created by Ms. Rowling in the _Harry Potter_ books, films, et cetera. Rather, it is intended as a _transformative work_ which comments upon the original. As such, no infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work. To the extent permissible by law, I retain the rights to my language/text/story.

From the author: Sorry for the delay, the holidays have put me a bit behind. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Hermione's trip to Africa is coming in the next chapter or so and will be important to the development of her relationship with Draco. I hope you'll leave a review if you like the story. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 8 Rubber Bands

The week after Hermione's evening with Malfoy flew by in a rush. Her body would shiver sometimes as she was falling asleep, remembering how good he felt when he'd been there with her, in her bed. She shoved him out of her mind, though. _'No sense dwelling on him, or what happened. It went without saying that it was a one-time thing.' _

But again and again, as much as she fought it, she'd catch herself thinking of the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes were so incredibly serious as he moved sensuously above her, thewayhe looked with the light sheen of perspiration glistening on his pale skin as he ran his fingers over her back as they talked after making love.

Luckily, she was so busy at work that she barely had time to think about what had happened with her childhood nemesis. Even her evenings were swamped as she researched and studied Ibogaine, the natural substance originally used by some African tribes to alter their consciousness during tribal ceremonies. In more recent years, Ibogaine was being used to treat Muggles who were addicted to drugs such as heroin. Supposedly the experience they had while using Ibogaine allowed the patients to stop the physical craving they had for heroin, making it easier to stay clean after they finished their rehabilitation treatment.

She hoped to determine whether using Ibogaine in combination with other ingredients would result in potions that could be used to help those in the Wizarding community who were the victims of hexes and curses that resulted in hallucinations and other symptoms that mimicked Muggle drugs. Potentially it would even be useful for the few people in the Magical community who became addicted to Muggle drugs each year. Although it was not prevalent, drug use and abuse wasn't unheard of, particularly in the aftermath of the War, when many people were trying to find a way to cope with the things they had seen and done.

After reading all she could about this fascinating substance, she was about to travel to Africa to interview several people who had taken Ibogaine or used it in conjunction with traditional ceremonies in their communities. She also hoped to find a source of Ibogaine so she would have a steady supply of it to use in her research. All of the plans had been finalized and she would be using a Portkey to travel to Gabon to meet with a shaman who was going to act as her guide while she was there. She and her assistant, Chris, would be leaving in two weeks.

Her final report of the final day of the was almost finished when Chris stuck his head into her office. "Hey ho, Mi-O," he grinned, using his truncated version of her name in his favorite greeting, which he knew annoyed the heck out of her.

"Hey, Chris. What do you need?" She kept her voice bored and didn't look up from her report. Her assistant of the past two years was smart and funny, but she had learned not to encourage his joking lest she end up getting nothing done for an hour while he tried to make her laugh. He found making her laugh to be one of his favorite challenges, and while she could be dying of laughter inside, she rarely let it show on the outside so she wouldn't encourage him.

"You have a few letters that came with the owl post. Do you want to take care of them, or would you like me to do it?"

"If it's something you don't recognize, bring it here. If it's the usual stuff, you can take care of it for me."

"Be right back, then."

When Chris returned with her letters, she saw one was from Roman and opened it right away. It was an invitation to dinner that evening. She hadn't been in a long term relationship since she and Ron had ended things two years ago, and she had no problem with playing the field for a while. They had been so young when they got together, and it was inevitable that growing pains would create a wedge between them, especially since their personalities were so different.

She'd tried to develop interests more compatible with his, and he did the same, but in the end they agreed it just didn't work. Nothing he tried allowed him to truly enjoy the intellectual side of life that she loved, and she couldn't force herself to care much about Quidditch statistics or all-you-can-eat buffets. Finally, they had parted, regretfully, but as sweetly as when they had come together. There was no blaming or faulting the other, just an acknowledgment they were meant to be friends, not lovers.

Since then, Ron had also enjoyed the single life, dating many of the glory-hungry witches who wanted to be associated with one of the great war heroes, before finally realizing that he wasn't likely to meet a woman to share his life with that way. Since then, he had become more private and selective in the witches he chose to date, and last she had heard he was dating an American witch whose family was old friends with the Weasleys.

There was a fleeting thought wondering what Malfoy had been doing this week. She didn't expect to hear from him again after what had happened, but a part of her wished he would acknowledge what had happened in some way. Her thoughts drifted ...

_...The dark haired witch was bent over her desk, focused on her work. She looked up to see a delivery man holding a lovely bouquet of flowers. Nothing cliched, like roses, but instead a charming bunch of lilies in various shades of red. She smiled as her assistant carried the flowers to her, burying her face into them to breathe in the refreshing scent of the outdoors, so different from the stale air she worked in all day. _

"_Who are they from, Mi-O? That dweeb in Records that has a crush on you? Or maybe that guy with the thick glasses and acne that works in the coffee shop who gives you a large and only charges you for a medium?" Chris's voice broke through her thoughts. She rolled her eyes at him but stayed quiet._

_She removed the card that was tucked into the greenery and saw that it was a heavy parchment envelope with a green border on the back flap. Opening it, she glanced at the card and felt a warm blush come over her face. "Hermione, I hope you had as wonderful of an evening as I after our impromptu meeting the other night. I can't seem to stop thinking about it. Would you meet me for dinner? – D."_

"_No, Chris, it's not from anyone you would expect. It's from someone who is able to put two sentences together, and also has incredibly sensuous lips that know fifty ways to move across my collarbone..."_

With a deep sigh, Hermione shook her head and came back from the dream. It wasn't going to happen, that wasn't how Malfoy worked. Even if he was interested in seeing her again, he wouldn't want to see her in public, where they would both have a lot of explaining to do once they were seen. Besides, it had been a week now, and if he was going to contact her he would've done it by now.

After quickly dealing with her mail, she sent Roman a note accepting his invitation to dinner. She'd considered just going home to get some sleep, but she could use a night out instead of burying her nose in Potions books and Herbology journals. She'd Floo to Spree and meet him straight after she finished here. She looked down at her outfit, a grey sweater dress with a wide belt at the waist, and was glad she'd chosen to wear the boots with heels instead of flats today.

_'

Draco walked into his office with his nose buried in a file. He sat down on his chair with a thump, and without looking up said "What's up, Blaise?"

His friend grinned. "I knew you couldn't just ignore me. I'm too irresistible for that, even for the guys in my life." He pretended to buff his fingernails on his shirt. "I am here to drag you out for dinner. I think it's time we talked more seriously about our business idea. You up for it?"

Draco tented his fingers together and took a few moments to look at his oldest friend with bemusement. "Are you asking if I'm up for dinner, or up for our business proposition?"

Blaise shrugged. Everything the man ever did looked casual. He could probably bow to the Queen herself and make it look as though he just needed to work out a crick in his neck. And what's more, the Queen would probably find him charming, as did every other woman on the planet, or so it seemed.

The black-haired wizard answered lazily. "I'm hoping you're up for both, of course, but if not, I hope you'll choose dinner over business." A complacent grin crossed his face. "There's a chance a certain witch I am pursuing is going to be at Spree tonight and I'd like to 'accidentally' run in to her."

"Far be it from me to hinder your chances with a woman, mate. Dinner it is, and discussing the business is fine too."

"Excellent! We can have fun and discuss the chance of making a multimillion Galleon deal at the same time. What could be better?"

"Not much, except perhaps catching the eye of your current love interest and making some headway with her."

"Oh, man, Draco, this one is different. She's resisting all of my moves. You know I have several patented come-ons that have never failed to work, but she just acts as though she's seen it all before. I can't convince her that even if she _has_ seen it all, she's never seen it from the likes of _me_ before." He grinned ruefully as he remembered his last encounter with the raven-haired witch he'd met a few weeks before. He had a rather large amount of flowers to purchase and he'd stopped in to the floral shoppe where she worked to order them.

All the smiles, winks and little hints hadn't seemed to penetrate her consciousness at all. She'd remained business-like throughout the entire transaction. Towards the end he tried to pique her interest in why he was buying such a large bouquet, hoping he could awaken a twinge of jealousy in her, but when she hadn't taken the bait he'd finally had to admit they were for his mother's birthday. He did have the good fortune, though, of overhearing her discussing her plans to drop in at Spree the next evening with some friends, so the visit hadn't been a total loss.

"Zabini? You still in there?"

Draco's words brought Blaise back to the present and he leaned forward to finish setting up their evening. "How late will you need to stay here? We could just Floo there if you'll be finished soon."

His blond friend sighed a bit. "I'm tired of these reports, and tired of this chair and tired of this office. I just have to give some instructions to Susan and I can be ready to go in about ten minutes."

"Right-o, mate. I'll head on to the restaurant and get us a table and you get there when you can."

They parted ways, little knowing that they both were thinking of unexpectedly challenging witches, who each in their own way were more intriguing than any others they had ever met. One was happy in his thoughts, trying to figure out how to get his witch's attention, while the other wizard was trying to get the witch in his thoughts out of his head once and for all. Damned if she wasn't a tough one to forget, though.

Blaise's table was centrally placed to allow him to see other patrons as they came and went. He was sipping on a Firewhiskey and smiling at the people he recognized as they moved about the restaurant. He had a reputation for being aloof and arrogant, but as he grew older he was recognizing the value of social niceties and was no longer the loner he had been at Hogwarts. Although he had never known his father, who was apparently as much of a playboy as his mother was a black widow, he had visited his Zabini grandparents in Italy every summer and gotten to know his paternal cousins and other relatives. The Zabini men were known for their high cheekbones and aristocratic looks and manners. They were Pureblood as far back as they could trace, but he'd never cared about all of that.

When most of his Slytherin mates had been fixated on the Dark Lord, he'd been fortunate that his family had remained relatively neutral through the war. He had no interest in serving anyone's interests but his own, and following around a maniac who clung to power by causing pain to his followers and enemies alike had always struck him as a rather ludicrous way to gain personal power. Thankfully, those days were over, and most of his friends were repairing the damage that had been done to them in all areas of their lives as they coped with rebuilding everything they had ever known and believed.

Unfortunately, many of them had lost the very parents that had led them so astray, but with their everlasting Slytherin sensibilities they had landed on their feet, for the most part. Some families, like the Malfoys, had a lot of work to repair their reputations, but also had the massive amounts of money to encourage 'amnesia' when it came to their loyalties to Voldemort, and their last minute actions that helped Potter hadn't hurt any either.

Just then he saw Draco making his way to their table. His friend had filled out and broadened in the past few years, but he was still very lithe and agile. He wore his hair shorter than his school days, but had a longer fringe that tended to hang in his eyes and show his frustrations by the end of the day when he'd been running his fingers through his hair. Even Blaise could appreciate how it made Draco look boyish, and when the blond threw on a grin, the rake in Draco was apparently irresistible to all but pregnant women and lesbians, and even some of those seemed willing to reconsider at times. Fortunately for Blaise, he had a dark charm every bit as compelling as his light haired friend, and the two of them were rarely defeated in almost anything they set out to do.

Their waiter was quick to stop by the table, and had a drink on the way to Draco by the time he'd settled into his seat. "Okay, Zabini, where is this wondrous witch that has captivated you so?"

Blaise shook his head as he took a sip of his drink. "I haven't seen her yet, but it's still early. Hopefully she'll make an appearance soon."

"So who is she? Do I know her?"

"Well, she didn't go to Hogwarts. She told me the other day that she's from Canada and moved here last year with her parents. That's about all I know. Her name is Victoria. I don't even know her last name yet."

Draco just snorted and buried his face in his menu. He knew how Blaise was when he set his sights on something – or someone. "It will be interesting to see if this is another one of your passing fancies."

"Oh, look who's talking! The Slytherin Prince of One Night Stands!" His friend chuckled with real mirth.

"Not all of my … relationships … are of such short duration. I dated Kelly Hunter for almost three weeks. Oh, and technically I haven't ended anything with Lydia yet, so I've been with her for over a month!"

"Drake, you know as well as I do that it doesn't count as a relationship if you haven't seen the woman for two of the four weeks you've purportedly been 'dating' her. And regardless, even with the occasional two or three weeker, everyone else you date is usually for one night. Not even a whole night, usually."

"This discussion isn't about me and my love life. This is about you, and the thrill of the chase and the boredom that quickly follows as soon as you've caught your quarry." Draco's eyes held a hint of laughter, but they both knew his words were true.

The darker wizard lifted his nose in the air and spoke loftily. "I can't see the future, I always did stink at Divination. Therefore, I feel it's important to pursue any potential life mates I meet in order to ascertain whether they may or may not be the perfect witch for me."

They both took a generous drink of their Firewhiskeys, then broke into outright laughter as their eyes met. When you're young, rich and handsome, you don't spend a lot of time worrying about whether or not your current love interest may be wife material.

Just then Blaise's breath caught. "She's here! She's walking this way!" His normally deadpan, bored tone held a note of excitement. "Oh, man, legs like those should not be legal …" His voice trailed off. Draco watched as three attractive dark haired ladies threaded their way through tables, following their hostess to their table. He could see which one Blaise would be drawn to right away. She was tall, with straight shiny black hair and skin the colour of coffee with cream. Her intelligent dark brown eyes were moving around the room with interest, although he noted a small eye roll when she caught sight of his friend.

Blaise stood up as they were about to walk by. "Victoria, how nice to see you here. Won't you and your friends join us at our table?" His voice had returned to it's calm, measured tones.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Zabini. Thank you for the offer, but we don't want to interrupt your meal." Victoria's voice was low and softer than Draco would've expected.

Draco's heart sank when he saw one of the witches giggle and jab a sharp elbow in Victoria's side, hissing words into her ear that he knew were telling her 'not to be a fool and to sit down with these two eligible wizards'. Not that he minded sharing his meal with attractive women, but he did not particularly want to spend a whole evening being ogled by Victoria's friends. Giving a sigh, he threw himself onto his sword for his friend.

"Please, do sit with us, Miss …?"

At the sound of Draco's voice, Victoria looked his way for the first time. "Hunter," she said, supplying her last name. She thrust her hand forward, obviously intending to shake his hand. "And you are?"

Draco took her hand, pressing her fingers to his lips quickly in a courtly gesture. "Draco Malfoy, friend, confidante and wingman extraordinaire for my dear friend Blaise."

Her lips twisted up in a quick smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, but -"

"We'd love to have dinner with you, thank you for the invitation!" The giggling companion smoothly interrupted and slid into a seat before Victoria could turn them down again. Victoria shrugged and sat down, receiving menus from the hostess as they introduced themselves to each other.

"I'm Bridgette, Victoria's younger sister, and this is our good friend Macy." Draco and Blaise stood up once more and used their best manners as they were introduced to the other two ladies.

Draco could see that Blaise was in his element, recommending his favorite dishes from the menu. Bridgette seemed to be a straightforward witch and was bantering back and forth with Blaise as though she'd known him for years. Macy, on the other hand, was already leaning close to Draco's side, giggling as she asked for his recommendations for appetizers. Giving his mate a death glare that he could only hope conveyed his loathing, he bent his head over her menu as he pointed out a couple of favourites.

The waiter soon brought appetizers and drinks for the table, and Blaise was in his element, regaling the ladies with tales of his childhood. Draco leaned back in his seat, holding his whiskey glass loosely and looking around, trying not to act as bored as he was. His eyes came to rest on a headful of shiny chestnut hair and he felt a quick … something … in his stomach. It looked like her from the side. His grey gaze moved to her companion, and recognizing him as the same man he'd seen her out with before, he knew it was her. He tried to keep moving his gaze on around the room, but found himself returning to that head of curls every couple of minutes.

Across the room, Hermione was unaware she was being watched. After making their meal selections, she and Roman were catching up on various studies that they both were involved with at their jobs. She was smiling and laughing as her date described an encounter he'd had that week with a creature that could turn any plant from being toxic to nontoxic simply by touching it. Of course, such a skill would be incredibly helpful to anyone who dealt with dangerous plants, and they both were interested to see where the skill may have come from.

Suddenly he changed the subject of discussion. "Are you getting excited for your trip?"

She smiled, unable to hide the bubble of excitement that came into her when she responded. "I must admit I am. I've never been to Africa before. It's a bit intimidating because there are so many cultures and languages, and so much I'm not familiar with regarding … well, everything about their daily lives. But I think learning about all of it is going to be amazing."

Roman smiled in understanding. "How long will you be gone? Are you going to do any traveling for fun, or is it all going to be work?"

"Most of it's going to be work, we'll be there for about two weeks. You know me, the work part of it is going to be fun, and learning about Ibogaine and it's uses directly from a shaman is my dream vacation." Hermione couldn't help but laugh at herself, she knew it must sound ridiculous to be claiming a trip to the center of Africa to investigate a plant was a dream come true, but it really was for the intellectual witch.

Her date shook his head and laughed ruefully. "You really are one of a kind, Hermione. I hope the trip is everything you're dreaming of … _without_ using Ibogaine to make it so."

"Ha! I have no plans on taking the Ibogaine myself, at least not while I'm still in Africa. If I'm going to experiment, it's going to be in a safe location, not in the middle of Gabon, where I have no control over my environment."

Nodding his agreement, he took another bite of his lobster risotto. Hermione watched him chewing with a thoughtful smile on her face, while across the room, unbeknownst to her, someone else was watching her every movement.

As she finished her meal, she set her napkin on the table and stood up. "Roman, please excuse me for a moment. I need to freshen up, I'll be back in a minute."

He politely rose as she stood to make her way to the back of the restaurant. He didn't notice that he was being appraised by icy grey eyes from across the room, and he sank into his seat and continued eating.

Hermione stood in front of the large mirror in the lounge by the ladies room, running a hand over her hair to smooth it down from it's rough-and-tumble rampage of waves and curls. She turned to the side to ensure her skirt wasn't riding up or anything, then made her way to the door to return to the restaurant. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up and saw Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall across from her.

"Hello." Her voice was quiet.

He looked at her for a moment, running his eyes over her hair and all the way down to the tips of her boots. "Hi. How've you been since …," He paused as he wondered what to say that wouldn't sound awkward.

Hermione smiled and let him off the hook. "Since we last met? I've been fine, thanks. You?"

"Busy, as usual." He shoved his hands into his pockets as they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

She shivered a bit as he continued to look at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Did he think she'd be embarrassed to see him? Or happy? Or, heaven forbid, that she'd act like one of his groupies? He startled her out of her musings with a question.

"So, this is the second time I've seen you out with the same guy. Are you two together?"

She had a quizzical look on her face as she looked at him. "Why? Does it matter?"

His gaze focused with laser sharpness on her lips and she realized he'd moved forward so close that their bodies were only inches apart. She took a step back to remove herself from such an intimate position, but he followed. As she felt her back bump into the wall behind her, he looked up to her eyes and gave a tiny smirk as he shrugged carelessly.

"It doesn't matter, I was just curious."

"We work together and are dating, but we aren't an item. At least, not yet." Her heart was beating a bit faster at the way he was looking at her like she was a slice of chocolate cake and he was addicted to sugar. She started to move away from him. "I guess I should get back to him."

Draco was gripped with the urge to push her against the wall with his body, trapping her there so he could feel her soft warmth, so he could take her lips with his and taste her with the tip of his tongue. His arms came up to the wall on either side of her head, pinning her there as he pressed himself against her. He was thankful the hallway was quiet and secluded as he swooped down and captured her lips with his. He gave a small growl as he pushed his hips to hers. Gads, she was so soft, but so hard. Cool on the outside but liquid heat wherever he touched her. He closed his eyes and nipped at her bottom lip.

Hermione was shocked when he kissed her, right there in the hallway by the restrooms and the back door. She put her hands on his chest to push him away, but after a moment of feeling his warm tongue moving on her bottom lip, she found herself wrapping her fingers around his lapels and actually pulling him closer instead. She began to return his kiss with a passion equal to his, abandoning herself to the feelings of his body against hers. Her eyes slid shut as they tasted each other, feeling everywhere their tongues could reach with the other.

When his hands moved to hold her face, she moaned softly and allowed her hips to swivel slightly against the hardness she could feel between them. She felt his sharp breath as he reacted to her actions and began pushing back against her. When she felt one of his hands slide down her front and brush lightly across a nipple, she felt as though he'd sent a bolt of magic straight to her core. _'How does he do this? Does every woman he kisses melt like this? No wonder he's so arrogant!'_ she thought to herself. With determination, she pushed against him and broke her lips away from his, reluctantly but firmly.

Draco saw that her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses and her brown eyes were hazy with lust, and he wished he could just grab her and Disapparate to somewhere private where he could continue kissing and touching her. Reluctantly, he set her loose and stepped away from her warm length.

Her voice was a bit breathless. "I, um … I have to get back to my table. I'll see you later, okay?" She began to walk away when she heard him speak.

His voice was low and husky."Hermione, wait. Will you please meet me later? I want to see you."

She froze and looked at him without blinking for a long moment. Should she? Could she? If she allowed this physical attraction for him to lead her astray, what would that mean? Simply that he was _that_ good in the sack, or that there was something more to this? She sighed. She didn't want to try to figure this out right here, in this hallway by the loo. His eyes were shining and he looked so hopeful. Damn, how in the world was it that he could be such a womanizer but look like such an innocent?

"I don't think so. Not tonight. Take care, Malfoy."

He was so surprised as he watched her walk away that he didn't think to respond until she was already gone. He wondered how she could walk away after that kiss, because he sure couldn't.. He wasn't used to being refused by a woman, and this rejection was a bit unsettling. He made his way back to his table. Blaise was telling a story that had the ladies quietly giggling, and Mary? Maddy? eagerly leaned into him to catch him up with the story. He gave a small smile and joined in the laughter.

Hermione watched him return to the dining room, and saw the woman at his table latch on to his arm as soon as he resumed his seat. She shook her head to herself. '_He's such a player, Hermione. That is the last time you're going to be caught unawares by him. These lips will not meet those lips ever again!'_ Just as she began to turn her attention back to Roman, Malfoy looked up and met her eyes.

Her stomach gave a little lurch, but he gave no indication of his thoughts as he bent his head down to listen to the whispers of the witch next to him. She swallowed heavily and forced herself to listen to her date, but found she couldn't concentrate on a word he was saying. There was a heavy weight in her chest, and she was trying to figure out how she could feel so weighted down and yet so hollow at the same time.

An hour later Hermione sighed with relief as she shut her door, leaning against it as she closed her eyes. Roman had dropped her off, giving her a perfectly nice good night kiss before he left. She should have been happy, or content, but there was a restless feeling inside her and the heaviness in her chest hadn't lifted yet. Dejectedly she pulled off her boots and threw them across the floor to rest by the coat closet, then slipped her coat off and hung it up.

As she began walking to her bedroom, there was a quiet knock at the door and she knew. She threw open the door, and there was the blond wizard she couldn't get out of her thoughts. Without saying a word, she threw herself on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He grabbed her bottom to hold her up, his lips pressing to hers as he walked through the door and kicked it shut behind him. Without breaking the kiss or making a sound, he carried her into the bedroom and kicked that door shut, too.


	9. Bad Dreams

A noise pulled Hermione from a deep sleep. As she fought to open her eyes, she heard it again. It sounded like moaning. As she gathered her wits she remembered that Malfoy was still here, sleeping next to her after they had ended up at her place the previous evening. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep with his arm across her stomach and his head nestled next to hers, but now she was becoming aware that he had moved near the edge of the bed. From the looks of the sheets and blankets, he'd been tossing and turning quite a bit too.

As she looked at him, his fair skin lit up from a shaft of moonlight pouring through her bedroom window, she saw he had a fine sheen of perspiration on his forehead and across the top of his lip. His hair was damp and flattened against his head. He tossed his head back and forth and she heard him begin moaning again. He sounded as though he was in pain, and terribly frightened as well.

"Ahh … no, no." His voice was quiet in the room, but had an intense quality to it that made shivers run down Hermione's spine. "Please, stop. Don't do this," he continued in the same intense whisper. He suddenly stood up, and she thought he had awakened.

"Malf … er, Draco, are you alright? Is it a nightmare?" Her voice sounded loud in the quiet of the room although she was speaking softly. He gave no indication that he had heard her, but clenched his hands in tight fists and opened his eyes. She could see he was somewhere else in his mind and realized that he was still dreaming. Indecision, a very unfamiliar emotion for her, ran through her. Should she wake him, or just try to get him back to the bed? She didn't want to let him hurt himself, but she also didn't want to cause him to strike out at her while he was obviously having a nightmare.

While she waffled about what to do, Draco was whispering to someone only he could see. "You knew this would happen. You knew you would break her, and you thought you could break me, but you can't. I won't let you do this. For her, I will stay strong. For her, I will fight you. You bastard, this is the last time you're going to hurt me." Hermione's heart started racing as she saw the fear and tension on his face. He looked so vulnerable, yet determined. Suddenly he fell to her floor, writhing as though he was feeling real pain. She recognized this. He was dreaming of the Cruciatus Curse. He began to scream, but he was trying to keep as quiet as he could. The struggle to release his pain without giving the satisfaction of screaming to his tormentors was causing his face to twist in agonized contortions of grief and anger.

Slipping from the bed, Hermione slowly walked next to him and dropped to her knees beside him.

"Draco? Wake up, it's a dream. You're okay." Her hands moved to his arms and began rubbing softly up and down. He jerked away from her touch and continued to move on the floor as though someone was bearing down on him with the strongest Cruciatus Curse they could. Knowing the people he'd known, she knew it would have been a very strong, very painful curse no matter who it was.

He curled into a ball on his side and raised his arms over his head as though to shield himself from the pain. Through panicked breathing, she heard him saying something over and over. "You cannot break me. You can … not break me. I won't allow you to break me." His muscles relaxed and for a moment she thought he'd awoken. "I told you, I won't let you break me. She needs me, and I won't let her be alone without my father or me." His teeth were gritted and sweat was pouring down his red face as he gasped for breath.

He began to contort again and she knew he must have been feeling the curse again. In desperation, she lie down beside him and wrapped her arms around him, holding his body as close to hers as she could. She pushed one arm under his head so it was cradled against her rather than the floor, while her other wrapped around him so she could run her hand up and down his back. Her lips were against his ear and she murmured quietly, crooning the way a mother does to an upset child. She felt Draco's body shudder in her arms, then he grew quiet and stopped whispering and twisting his body. He would convulse with little shivers periodically as his breathing calmed, so she kept holding him, rubbing his back and whispering in his ear without stopping. After a long while, he seemed to be sleeping without dreaming again.

Hermione carefully extracted herself from his limbs, and went around the bed to grab her wand.

"_Wingardum leviosa!"_ Her voice was a whisper as she raised Draco's slumbering body and returned him to the bed. For an anxious moment, she thought he was waking, but he just rolled to his side and hugged his pillow. She released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and slid in next to him, covering him with a light blanket and moving to be as close to him as she could without waking him up. For many minutes, she rested her head on her pillow and watched him, now sleeping calmly and looking like a little boy with no lines of worry on his face.

Without thought, she reached her hand to his face and softly stroked his cheek. _'What was that, Draco?'_ she thought. '_So many of us have nightmares, but how often does this happen to you? Will you remember it tomorrow?'_ He shifted suddenly and his arm once again came to rest across her stomach as he snuggled in closer to her warm body. She allowed her hand to fall from his face to his chest, and slowly her eyes grew heavy and finally, she too slipped back to sleep, cuddled up against the man-boy she had thought she knew for all those years, realizing that maybe she didn't really know him at all.

HDHDHDHD

Sunshine was coming through a crack in the curtains as Draco woke up the next morning. For a split second he felt a moment of panic until he remembered where he was. He looked beside him to see a splash of hair cascading across not only her pillow, but his. He grinned as he thought of the many ways he could tease her about her wayward curls, but then again, it was so soft and smelled so good, maybe he'd just keep his thoughts to himself. She had grown into a lovely woman and left her awkwardness long behind her, and now he couldn't think of anything he'd want to change about her, even if he could. He regretted all the teasing he'd given her over the years, but then again, wasn't that what boys did with girls they secretly liked?

At first he'd been ignorant and cruel, spouting the bigoted rants he'd heard from his father, but by the end of their school years he'd begun to realize that his father and the whole Pureblood versus Muggleborn argument was ridiculous. Without Muggleborn witches and wizards, magic would have died out years ago, including all of the snobbish Purebloods. Anything that helped the magical population to grow was a good thing, not a bad one. Especially when people as talented and smart as Hermione were included in that group. She'd made a real difference in the world, and he was glad that he'd been given a second chance to get to know her as he was now.

_'Of course, so far I've mostly gotten to know her more obvious … assets.'_ He grinned again. _'Not that I am complaining … but maybe it's time I learn a little bit about the rest of her too.'_ With that thought, he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. Her eyes opened slowly and she looked at him sleepily and smiled at him.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Draco's voice was a bit husky with sleep, and with his tousled hair and the grin on his face, Hermione thought he looked incredibly edible.

She groaned as she stretched her limbs. "Good morning, Draco. I'm a bit surprised you're still here."

"Why? Did you think I'd sneak out in the middle of the night?"

"With you, anything is possible. I just didn't think you'd want to wake up in my bed. With me." She grinned at him. "What would Wizarding society say if they knew?"

He nuzzled the side of her neck before he answered. "They would say I was a very lucky Wizard."

She gave a snort of laughter. "Are you kidding? They would say that you've gone mental, spending time with someone who is … well, not a Pureblood. You'd never hear the end of it from your friends or your parents."

"Hermione, there are still some bigots in our society. There always will be. There are also a lot of us who learned from our mistakes, and especially from those of our parents. You'd be surprised how welcoming most of my friends would be to find out we were … um, well, spending time together, to say it euphemistically." His grin flashed again.

"Mm hm," she replied with skepticism. "I notice you didn't mention your parents in that description."

"Well, my parents might surprise you too." He made a wry expression. "I don't know what they would say, but I don't think it would be as negative of a reaction as you might think. They were very humbled by the end of the War, Hermione. They made a lot of mistakes, but they are trying to make up for them and move on."

Her voice was soft. "I know, Draco. We all are. And really, I suppose it doesn't matter what your parents would think, as the chance of them ever knowing about this," she waved her hand around to encompass them both, "doesn't seem very likely."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, keep an open mind, okay?"

She nodded. "I'll try." Her face grew sober. "Draco, you seemed to have a very intense nightmare last night. Do you remember it happening?"

His pale cheeks flushed a bit and his voice was sheepish. "See, that is why I don't usually stay overnight with … people. I never know when one of those dreams will visit me. Was I too horrible?"

"Not at all. It just concerned me because you seemed to be in real pain from whatever was happening to you. You never woke up though."

"I'm sorry. Usually my dreams are about Aunt Bella and the horrible things she did to me after my father was put into Azkaban the first time. She tortured my mother and me, and my mother had an emotional breakdown over what was happening. It killed me to see my mother, usually so strong, brought to her knees by her own sister." His eyes grew distant as he remembered the times she'd laughed with glee as she "followed the Dark Lord's orders" and used the Cruciatus Curse to punish them for their shortcomings and transgressions, real and imagined.

"I never forgave Bella for the things she did to us, or to you either. She was a hideous, mentally ill woman who took sadistic pleasure from seeing pain and suffering. Whilst I hate her with most of my being, even now, there is a part of me that has to admit that her behavior during that time was what started turning my mother and I away from the Dark Lord and his ideals. In a way, I am thankful for her harshness, because she nurtured the seeds of doubt that had been growing in me for quite a while. I am certain she is the reason I was unable to follow through on my 'assignment' from Voldemort."

He sighed heavily as he relived memories of those dark days.

"I know what you mean, Draco. Even the most horrible of situations usually has something to teach us, if we're able to look past the pain to find it."

His blond hair glinted as he nodded. "You're right. I just have to find a way to get her out of my dreams. The torture and pain feels almost as real as when it was actually happening. My muscles usually ache the next day after one of my Bella nightmares. I can't seem to put her away in mind and shut that door … somehow she always ends up opening the door and getting out again."

Hermione tilted her head in consideration. "Have you tried anyone at St. Mungo's to see if there is help for what you're going through?"

"No. It's too personal and frankly, embarrassing to talk to a stranger about. I'll manage. It has to get better at some point, right? It's been five years." His expressive eyes met hers.

"I'm not sure, Draco. Maybe it will go away, but maybe you need something more than just the passage of time to get her out of your head. At least think about seeing someone about it, okay?" She rubbed her hand on his arm.

His head flopped down onto the pillow as he gave another big sigh. "I will think about it, I guess. But that's all I'm going to do right now, think about it."

"I'm glad you'll at least think about it." She smiled as she climbed from the bed. "I'm going to go take a shower and then get some breakfast. I am so hungry!"

The Malfoy smirk made a brief appearance on his face. "I can't imagine why you'd be so hungry, Granger. What have you been up to?"

She laughed as she disappeared into the other room. "Why don't come in here and wash my back and I'll tell you all about what I've been up to ..."

"Now _that_ is the best offer I've had all day." His face was smiling as he followed the sound of water splashing. "Where's the soap?"


End file.
